ABC'S of Georg and Maria
by lemacd
Summary: A series of one-shots based on tumblr prompt lists by askboxmeme and kissman91. There will be 26, one for each letter of the alphabet. Please RnR! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1: A is for Amuse

_What the what? I'm going to do something quite brave. Or stupid. I'm going to start multiple writing projects at the same time. My Elsa story will come in due time, but in the meanwhile…_

_This is going to just be a series of one-shots based on an alphabet prompt list from askboxmemes on tumblr. I was inspired to do this by Kissman who wrote 'Chelsie Me', a series of vignettes in the 'Downton Abbey' forum (and if you're a fan of DA, you've probably read it. Or should). I will not come even CLOSE to that kind of brilliance but I just want to try and see what happens. Kissman created another alphabet prompt list and I may just pick and choose which prompt appeals more for each letter. My story, I can do what I want. _

_You can find Kissman's prompt on tumblr, too (kissman91). PM me if you are interested in the link for the actual prompt list (if you do tumblr, please do a nice and reblog the list). You should totally try this with me. _

_The vignettes stand alone, are in no particular order (pre-engagement, post-wedding, in America) and can be AU or canon. I anticipate that they will all be K+ rated, but if not there will be sufficient warning. Ready? _

**A is for Amuse: one character tries to cheer up another**

Georg found his wife staring blankly out the living room window from a chair she had dragged from the corner. She sat with her legs tucked under her, her head resting heavy against the sill. The house was quiet, too quiet. Maria's mood and energy fed off the chaos of their seven children and it pained him to see her so melancholy.

"Is everything all right?" He inquired softly when his presence failed to bring her out of her daze. She turned and offered a weak smile.

"Everything is as it should be," she sighed. He nodded, unable to bring himself to point out that she didn't answer his real question.

"It won't be so bad. Liesl is getting married, she isn't moving to the moon."

"No, but she won't be here. And I miss her already."

"She upstairs sleeping and dreaming of a life of love and happiness. Isn't that what you want for her?"

"Of course, I do. How could I begrudge anyone what I have," she responded with another half-hearted smile. "I would have thought you'd be having a harder time than me. She's your daughter…"

"_Our_ daughter, thank you very much. And no father enjoys the thought of another man taking his little girl away and becoming more important than him. I hate it really… but not as much as I love seeing her happy." Georg reached out a hand and Maria took it slowly. He pulled her gently to her feet and into his arms. He felt her fight it, but eventually sensed her give in to his words. Her body slumped against his and her arms eventually reached around his waist for support. He rubbed his palms lightly over her back in soothing strokes as he heard her sniffling into his lapel.

"I want her to be happy," Maria managed once the tears subsided. "I know I'm being selfish and silly. But she wasn't just a daughter, she was my friend. My confidant." Georg murmured his sympathy and continued to comfort her until Maria finally pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm just going to be sad and mopey for a while, darling. I don't know how you'll put up with me."

"I shall do my best." Maria pulled back and stared at him incredulously.

"That's it?"

"I'm sorry, was that not the right thing to say?"

"You're supposed to try and cheer me up," she answered with a gentle huff. "Isn't that what marriage is supposed to be all about, anyway? You pick me up when I'm down?"

"Well, I…," Georg sucked air through his pursed lips as he scratched behind his ear. "Well, I could take you out to dinner, or maybe a concert. Both?" Maria crinkled her nose and shook her head. "Buy you a present?"

"No, I don't want you to buy me anything. I don't want to go anywhere."

"Recite poetry? Try to juggle? I'm afraid my soft shoe is a bit rusty... let you beat me at chess?"

"Oh, sing for me!" Maria leaped out of his arms and brought her hands together, prepared to plead. Georg moaned and rolled his eyes. "I love when you sing. But if you really don't want to cheer me…"

"But you're the singer, not me," he reasoned, pulling her to him again and reaching for her with his lips. "My talents for cheer lie elsewhere." Maria held him off with two palms firmly against his chest.

"Please?" He looked into the deep pools of her eyes and felt his resolve slowly weakening. It was no use; he knew he could refuse her nothing. He sighed heavily and shrugged his consent. He decided right then that the anguish would be worth it as she beamed at him with pleasure.

Georg told her to sit down by pointing to a settee in the middle of the room and then retrieved the guitar from its usual place nearby. He strummed a few strings to tune it and gave her a smile before beginning a jaunty strain.

"It has been a while since I've sung one, but would you fancy a sea shanty?" He said with a smirk.

"Will it make me blush, Captain?" Maria twisted her lip as she returned his flirting.

"You're a married woman, Maria. I didn't think you blushed anymore." Maria opened her mouth to respond but only giggled instead. She sat back and waited for him to begin singing. Already she could feel her heart begin to beat faster in anticipation.

Maria loved to hear her husband's voice anytime and anywhere. The way he spoke gently to his children, softly to her during moments of quiet intimacy or even bellowing at his morning paper when the news is unpleasant. But hearing him sing always brought her mind back to the first moment she heard him do it. It was the first moment she felt the stirrings deep and low for this man.

_Come me own one__  
__Come me fair one__  
__Come now unto me__  
__Could you fancy a poor sailor lad__  
__Who has just come from sea___

_You are ragged, love__  
__And you're dirty, love__  
__And your clothes smell much of tar__  
__So be gone, you saucy sailor lad__  
__So be gone, you Jack Tar___

_If I am ragged, love__  
__And I'm dirty, love__  
__And me clothes smell much of tar__  
__I have silver in me pocket, love__  
__And gold in great__ store___

_And then when she heard him say so__  
__On a bended knee she fell__  
__I will marry my dear Henry__  
__For I love a sailor lad so well___

_Do you think that I__  
__I am foolish, love__  
__Do you think that I am mad__  
__For to wed with a poor country girl__  
__There's no fortunes to be had___

_I will cross the briny ocean__  
__I will whistle and sing__  
__And since you've refused the__ offer__, love__  
__Some other girl shall wear the ring___

_Oh, I am frolicsome and I am easy__  
__Good-tempered and free__  
__And I don't give a single pin, me__ boys__  
__What the world thinks of me*_

When he finished, Maria clapped in appreciation, but grinned at him with something much fiercer. She stood and made her way to his side slowly, taking the guitar out of his hands and gently placing it back against the settee.

"Come with me, my saucy sailor," she called to him with outstretched arms. Her voice was low and husky and Georg instantly sprang to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"To bed. It's my turn to cheer you up."

"Oh. I didn't realize I was sad." Georg let her pull him toward the stairs, his own yearnings slowly building inside him. Maria stopped for only a moment and then continued.

"You're eldest daughter is getting married tomorrow, and all you'll be able to think about is how soon it will be Friedrich's turn and then Louisa's… by the time Liesl says I do, you'll be picturing Gretl under that veil." Georg swallowed hard.

"Yes, you're right. I'm very sad. I may need lots of cheering up," he agreed solemnly, following her down the hall toward their bedroom.

_*I first heard the song 'Saucy Sailor' sung by the Wailin' Jennys, but it is based on a real sea shanty. These lyrics were written (and recorded, find both on youtube) by Steeleye Span._

**Next: B is for Burden**


	2. Chapter 2: B is for Burden

_So thanks for the reviews and follows! I'm a bit sleep deprived at the moment, but I think this will have to do. I don't own these wonderful characters. _

**B is for Burden: one character shares a burden with another**

"Max, talking to me about the festival right now would be the very worst thing you could do," Georg practically spit the words at his friend following him into the study.

"No, not now. I'm not a fool." The impresario headed straight for the bar cart. He held one of the decanters toward Georg questioningly as a sort of peace offering, but the Captain shook his head and exhaled to calm down. Max poured himself a drink and settled into a leather chair near the desk.

"I'm home barely two hours from my honeymoon," Georg muttered as he tossed a telegram on his desk toward Max. "And this." Max made no move to look at it.

"I'm pretty sure I know what it says," he mumbled. "Herr Zeller paid a visit this afternoon while the children and I were at the venue. Asked if we had heard from you, if I knew when you'd be coming home."

"What? What did you tell him?"

"What do you think? Georg, I may not take sides when it comes to politics as a rule, but I definitely lean heavily toward your side when it really matters. I told him that as far as I knew, you were still blissfully enjoying your honeymoon with your new bride." Georg relaxed only slightly. He leaned his elbows on his desk and began to massage his temples to ward off the headache that was beginning to roar.

"I should still be enjoying my honeymoon."

"Poor timing. You had no choice but to come home. Of course, I wish you had enjoyed at least one more night in Paris," Max lamented. Georg shot him a warning look.

"I know, I know. _Your children do not sing in public_!" Max drained his drink, placed the glass down heavily on the corner of the desk and stood up. "I'll leave you to your thoughts." He headed toward the door but stopped and turned before leaving. "Are you going to tell Maria? About the telegram?"

"I don't know. I suppose I have to tell her something." Georg leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I don't want to upset her with this."

"Yes, well, don't underestimate her." With those parting words, Max left.

If there was one thing Georg had learned about his bride, it was to never underestimate her. His first impression of her left a bit to be desired, to be sure. When he had requested help from Nonnberg, he pictured an ancient, unsmiling wall of a woman that not only understood discipline, but probably helped God write the definition. Instead he got this slip of a girl dressed in the most hideous dress who most impertinently balked at every rule he put before her and clearly knew nothing about being a governess. He was sure his children would chew her up and spit her out. He was so very wrong. By midsummer he no longer saw her as that slip of a girl but as a woman, a beautiful woman who enchanted his children, captured his heart and changed his life.

But this was different. She was just getting her footing in her new life. She assured him that becoming his wife was the easiest thing in the world she had ever done and even an abbreviated honeymoon was proof to them both that she was who she was always meant to be. As for motherhood, it was as simple as changing a hat; the only adjustment she needed to make in that regard was getting used to hearing herself called _Mother_. Loving the children as her own simply carried over.

Yet, everything else was new and he was sure a bit daunting. She had given up so much for him and his children to be thrust into his world, a foreign place she didn't understand completely yet. He tried to ease her into the life as a baroness, to give her time to get used to ordering servants and help navigate which invites for tea and luncheons were sincere and which were simply to trot her out for scrutiny. He knew she was determined to learn restraint, to walk when she wanted to run, smile when she wanted to laugh. He saw the way she stared across the lake at the mountains where she told him she always felt the most free, the look in her eyes when the faint peeling of bells from Nonnberg could be heard on a quiet afternoon. And he loved her for it, and for shrugging all those concerns away with a radiant look of contentment. How he loved her!

It wouldn't be fair, he told himself, to add this to her load. He couldn't ask any more of her than he did when he married her. Max was right and he shouldn't underestimate her. But she deserved only joy during this new beginning. He owed her that and much more.

He picked up the telegram and shoved it into his pocket. He knew what had to be done, but it was a life-changing step and at the moment he couldn't see his way to make that choice. He needed courage enough for both of them. With a weary sigh he got to his feet went to find her. He could hear her voice coming from the sitting room and he paused outside the door before interrupting.

"But what do you do after he stops loving you?" He heard Liesl ask the question, her voice laced with sadness and resignation. He couldn't bring himself to think of his daughter having a love life, never mind a heartbreak.

"Well," he heard Maria muse slowly. "You cry a little and then wait for the sun to come out. It always does." Georg smiled at how experienced Maria sounded giving such advice, his young bride straight out of the convent.

"Sometimes I feel the world is coming to an end…"

"And then you feel it's just beginning?" Maria asked with a laugh. "It was that way for me, Liesl. And for you it will be just as wonderful. I promise."

He quickly realized that she was talking about the time she came back after running away. Not his finest moment, he had to admit. But he was confused. He waited for a sign, any indication that she came back for him. Instead she calmly congratulated him on his engagement and wished him every happiness. It wasn't until much later that she admitted to him that it was the greatest moment of torture her heart had ever experienced and that it took every bit of strength she had to say what she did. He remembered telling her he didn't realize, wished he had known, would have spared her any way if he had. She simply laughed and said it didn't matter since it all worked out beautifully.

He heard laughter and took that as his cue to interrupt and send Liesl away. Once they were alone, he pulled out the telegram. She stared at it and then at him. Her face dropped and became serious as she stepped closer to his side. Just having her closer made him feel his courage fortify.

"What is it?"

"Berlin…" he said, unable to hide his hostility as he explained the content of the telegram. He prepared for her helpless tears. He waited for her cry about the unfairness of it. He waited.

"I knew something like this would happen," she said in a sad hush. "I didn't think it would be so soon." She was calm in her concern and her eyes never left his face. She looked at him expectantly, trusting him to tell her what they would do… together.

"To refuse them would be fatal for all of us," he said quietly. "Joining them would be…unthinkable." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew what had to happen and amazingly, he could tell she knew it as well. It would be dangerous and terrifying, but none of that could be read in her demeanor. He reached for her and drew her to his side with a light kiss to her temple. He wanted to offer her comfort before asking her to share his burden but as her arm came around his waist, he knew she already was. She was strong. And he would be stronger with her by his side.

**Next: C is for Cradle**


	3. Chapter 3: C is for Cradle

**C is for cradle: a story about the characters and an infant or small child**

Under normal circumstances, Georg thought that he would rather enjoy staring his wife back into their bed. This particular occasion, however, was more challenging that he cared to consider.

"You are sick," he stated, stressing each word for all it was worth. "Stay in bed. I'll send Frau Schmidt to see what you need, and then I'll call the doctor…"

"No, don't call the doctor. I'm not dying, Georg. Honestly, it is just a little—," Maria's argument became lost in a coughing spell.

"It's just a little something that will turn into a big something if you don't stay in bed," he answered. He tried to sound caring but he was losing patience. He never liked it when his loved ones became sick.

"But I can't stay in bed," Maria whined as he held the covers back and waited for her to comply. She coughed again. "Look, the children need me. When I've finished getting them ready for school, I'll come back and sleep all day if that will make you happy."

"You'll get in bed now and let the children get themselves ready."

"But…"

"Maria, please. I'll help the children, OK? I'll do whatever needs to be done, just… stay in bed!" He tucked the blankets up around her chin with a bit too much pull. She responded but pushing them away and crossing her arms across her chest.

"But… you'll need to check Kurt's math. And Brigitta has a recitation today and I promised to listen to her one more time."

"I'll take care of it."

"Remind Marta to make sure she has everything before she leaves. She always manages to forget something."

"Yes, I'll do that too, all of it. How hard can it be?"

"Not hard at all," Maria answered sarcastically. "Not if even _I_ can do it."

"That's not what I meant," Georg sighed, rubbing his forehead to abate the ache that was starting to settle behind his eyes. "Look, I'll do it. I'll do everything. You just rest and take care of yourself. We can argue when you're well and I'm not as annoyed." Maria tossed her hands in the air and relented.

Just then, there was a pounding knock at their bedroom door. Maria sat up, but Georg put up his hand and made her stay put.

"Mother? I need you!" It was Gretl.

"I told you," Maria grumbled before beset by another coughing jag.

"I'll take care of it," Georg insisted for the umpteenth time as he made his way to the door. As soon as he opened it, his daughter ran to the bed. She was clad in her nightgown, her hair only partially braided and hanging loose.

"Mother, help me. I can't find my shoes."

"Shoes?" Maria managed between coughs. "Gretl, darling, you need to be dressed. It is getting late!"

"But I can't find my shoes!"

"Gretl, your mother is ill this morning and needs to rest. Please don't bother her about your shoes. Come with me, I'll help you find them." He held out his hand waiting for the child to take it. Instead, Gretl simply stared at him and then turned to stare at Maria.

"But…"

"No, that's the end of it. Let's go and leave her in peace." He waved his hand once more and waited. Finally Gretl climbed off the end of the bed and took her father's hand with reluctance. She looked at Maria with a concerned expression.

"Is Mother very sick?"

"Not very, but she needs rest to get better." They walked through the halls until they reached Gretl's bedroom. "Now, shoes. Which pair are we looking for now?"

"My shiny white shoes."

"The shoes you wore for the wedding? Those are not appropriate for school, dear."

"But I like them. I want to wear them."

"I'm sure you do, but you need to pick a different pair."

"Why?"

"Because they are your nicest pair and you only wear them for church and special occasions." Georg spun around his daughter's room looking for a clue where to start when he saw a dress set out on the end of her bed. "Ah. Here, let's start with this…"

"I hate that dress. I want to wear a different one."

"Gretl, we don't have time for games. There is a lot to do and not much time…"

"I'm going to ask Mother if I can wear-"

"No, you are going to put on this dress and that's final!" Georg held the clothes out to his daughter and gave her strict stare. The girl pressed her lips into a tight line and crossed her arms across her chest. He sighed and crouched down to look her in the eye and offered an encouraging smile. "Look, sweetheart… this dress is very nice. And you look very pretty when you wear it. Will you do it for me? I think it might be my favorite." Gretl nodded and took the dress from her father but clearly disagreed.

"I look better in my pink dress. The ones with the little flowers on it. I like it because it moves a lot. I like dresses that move a lot. I like when I can spin and make my dress go out, like this." She paused to demonstrate a twirl like a ballerina. "This dress doesn't spin very well. I like my green dress, too, even though the sleeves are too tight but it is soft. I like soft things, too. Kittens are soft. Do you think I could have a kitten? Ema has a kitten…" Georg felt the pain behind his eyes start to throb. _Does she ever stop talking?_

"Gretl, please… get dressed while you talk, alright? And I'll… I'll find shoes." He turned to look again. "Um, where do you keep your shoes?" Gretl laughed and pointed to a wardrobe. He found many pairs of little shoes lined up. Gretl rushed to grab the white pair. Georg gently took them back and looked at the others. He didn't have a clue.

"Darling, what shoes did you wear yesterday?"

"My brown ones," his daughter answered forlornly.

"I don't see brown ones." When he didn't hear her answer, he turned to see her shrug. "Where are they?" She shrugged again. "Where were you when you took them off?" Gretl's little face wrinkled as she thought about it and then lit up when she remembered.

"I was in the boys' room! We took our shoes off so we could jump on the beds!"

"You jumped on the...," Georg stopped himself with a deep breath. "Gretl, we are wasting time. Please change your dress and I will go get your shoes. Now!" He quickly marched out of the room and headed toward the boys' room when he was interrupted.

"Mother said you'd listen to my recitation," Brigitta said without preamble as she thrust a sheet of paper toward him.

"Don't bother your mother, she's ill and needs to rest."

"I'm not bothering her," Brigitta answered back. "I'm bothering you. She said you'd do it." Georg kept walking.

"Well, I'm trying to get your sister dressed. Go ask one of the others to listen to you."

"Liesl is checking Kurt's math and Friedrich and Louisa are arguing."

_At least I won't have to do Kurt's math_, he thought as he nodded and kept walking. "I have to find shoes, so just… do it now while I look." Brigitta gave a short nod and began.

He tried to listen with some attentiveness while he searched. He located one shoe right away, relieved to finally know exactly what he was looking for. Brigitta followed him closely as she continued her oration. _Shakespeare? Donne? He couldn't really tell… _

"…Or snorted we in the Seven Sleeper's den? 'Twas so, um… 'twas so… uh, Father? I can't remember how the next part goes." She thrust a paper at him. He looked at it and then her distractedly. "Or snorted we in the Seven Sleeper's den? 'Twas so…" _What is she talking about?_ He glanced the page and found the words.

"'Twas so; but this, all pleasures..."

"Yes! 'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be." Brigitta resumed her poem and Georg returned to his shoe hunt. Finally, after getting on his hands and knees, he found the wretched shoe under a bed. Victorious he jumped up and walked briskly to find Gretl with Brigitta close on his heels.

"Gretl, here are… Gretl?" The child was not where he left her but two minutes before. He grunted loudly and turned on his heels, knowing where to find her. Sure enough, she was sitting on his bed, her shoeless feet dangling off the edge. She was babbling away as Maria quickly but gently brushed her long hair. "I thought I told you to leave your mother alone."

"I'm only doing her hair," Maria defended. "Someone has to do it."

"That someone is supposed to be me! Why is it so hard to get you to let me do things?"

"I know, but…"

"Give me the brush." He held out his hand, snapped his fingers snapping his fingers impatiently. Maria gave a quiet huff and then handed him the brush. He then waited for the ribbons.

"Darling, you can't use…"

"Maria, please. Let me get on with it." Maria shrugged and gave over the two pale pink ribbons. She sat back and eyed him curiously.

He suddenly realized he reacted too brashly. He knew nothing about doing little girls' hair. He started by brushing to stall for time. He hesitantly played with a few locks trying to figure out what he was supposed to do when he looked up at Maria. Her smirk was growing and while he knew the most expedient thing to do would be to hand the ribbons back to her and let her finish, he was too annoyed.

_This is ridiculous_, he chided himself. _You spent half your life tying ropes into knots. How hard can this be? _ He began to make work of it, twisting and turning Gretl's soft tresses. He fumbled with the ribbon but decided to be satisfied with what he managed.

"There. Finished. You look beautiful. Now hurry—,"

"What… have you done?!" Maria covered her mouth with a hand, her attempt to suppress her laughter causing her to start coughing again. Two masses of hair stuck out of the back of the child's head and hung loosely at different angles.

"What? It's just a simple sailor knot, a bit modified for the situation. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Maria coughed harder. He stared at his handiwork. _It wasn't that bad_, he thought. _Not bad for a first try anyway_. Gretl shook her head and one of the ribbons instantly fell to the floor.

"Oh, who am I kidding," he relented, handing the brush back to Maria. He watched as she ran her hand deftly through Gretl's hair to undo his knots and then gathered it all between her fingers. He tried to pay attention but Brigitta was stuck again and he couldn't find the sheet to prompt her.

"My face in thine eye, um… my face in thine eye…" Brigitta's face trailed as she searched her brain for the next line. In the next beat, Maria picked up where Brigitta left off.

"My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north," she looked pointedly at Georg as she tied the final ribbon. "without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; If our two loves be one, thou and I, Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die." She finished before falling into another coughing spell. "Gretl, darling, mind your father and finish getting ready for school. Don't forget your hat and gloves. It's cold." The child obediently hopped off the bed and ran out of the room, her older sister following quickly. Georg moaned and collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling in defeat.

"I honestly don't know how you do it every day," he uttered with total awe. "That was just two children. We have seven!"

"None do slacken, none can die," Maria answered, stroking his forehead before bending down to lay a kiss there. "We're not just husband and wife, you know. We're parents. Together. We each do our part and get the job done. I appreciate that you tried and to be honest, you were very successful."

"Except for the hair."

"Well, yes. That was a bit… totally wrong." Maria laughed as she pushed to helped him sit up when he shifted. "It can be a battle for me, too."

"Shoes! She fought me on shoes!" Maria laughed until she coughed.

"Yes, well," she choked in response. "That still might not be your biggest battle of the morning."

"What?" As if on cue, they both could hear the heavy sound of feet stomping making their way closer.

"Mother!" Marta hollered as she stormed into their bedroom, her face flushed with anger. "Why did you say Gretl could wear my favorite ribbons?" Maria looked at her husband's horrified expression and began to cough.

"I'm sick today, Marta dear. Your father is in charge of hair ribbons. Please ask him," she replied as she lowered herself under the covers. She gave her husband a not-entirely sympathetic look before adding quietly, "I tried to warn you. Good luck, Captain."

_This prompt was just ripe for a fluffy little cute baby story, but I didn't want to go for the obvious. I'll blame the current flavor of the stage of parenting I'm in; my current job description is 'shoe hunter'. It takes up way too much of my day. Also, I have three, no four… no five nieces (wait… yes, five). I know for a fact that 4 of them like when their dad does their hair. And I know for a fact that their dads rather enjoy it. This is an insight into life with girls I never expected. Still, I don't believe our guy would have the first clue what to do with girl hair and ribbons. _

_The poem is 'The Good Morrow' by John Donne. It's about waking up in the morning and realizing that the love by your side is your perfect balance. Inappropriate for a 10 year old, maybe. But it worked for my story so I don't apologize. This is rather silly and OOC but the point is there, that they are a balanced unit and together get the job of raising seven children (say it with me, "Seven children?!") done. Donne. Get it? Ok, not as funny… _

_I have a favor to ask. Please leave a review and vote for the next prompt because I don't know which one to pick. I'm leaving it in your hands just this once._

**Next: D is for Daydream or D is for Drink?**


	4. Chapter 4: D is for DaydreamDrink

_A/N: First of all, thanks to all who let me know which 'D' prompt they wanted me to use. 'Daydream' was a clear winner, but there was a vote for 'Drink' and I'm just a happy little people pleaser so… no, I'm not, not really. I will say that utility_singer's suggestion about using both struck a creative nerve. _

_I promised to give fair warning if the rating changed and this vignette is definitely firmly in the T rated category. Read responsibly, children. _

_Now, I played a little loose with the prompt directions, but somehow I don't think anyone will really mind. I mean, the point is to have fun, right? Enjoy._

**D is for Daydream: a story where one character daydreams about the other D is for Drink: a story where two characters take shots together**

Georg needed a break. He was glad there was the excuse of planning a party to occupy Elsa's day, it certainly seemed to make her happy. He never wanted her to be unhappy, that was for sure. But with each discussion of menu and guest lists, he was hit with the realization that the last time he had hosted such a grand affair, he had Agathe by his side. There was a time not long before when this kind of thought would bring him low, but oddly it was just a memory that he could brush aside with fondness. When he mentioned this to Elsa, she simply smiled as if he was giving her credit for something.

He found himself walking toward the edge of the lake. The rain from the night before mercifully provided a break in the humidity and he decided to enjoy a leisurely stroll. Georg knew he should have asked Elsa to join him, but he didn't. Every day she became less subtle in her talk of marriage and he wasn't in the right mood to deal with it. He didn't discourage her, though something deep down told him he should. He sighed. Something was not right.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of his children yelling across the lawn. Another thing he never would have allowed and yet now it brought a smile to his face to know they were happy. He crept closer to the gathering, not keen to be detected.

"Line up," Maria ordered, and instantly his children fell into their usual rank. "Oh, no. Marta, darling, you're first. Then, uh… Friedrich, then Liesl. Just find your place in the song, please."

"I'm last!" Gretl complained. "I'm always last!" Maria tilted her head.

"It's ok to be last," Maria soothed his youngest. "In fact, it means you'll be on stage the longest. You get to be the big star at the end."

"Oooh," Gretl beamed to the amusement of all, including her father who shook silently with a laugh.

It was a wonder to watch them together, talking all at once, jumping and twirling, stepping together like the inner workings of a clock. It didn't occur to him to understand what they were up to, he was too thankful that it they were having fun. And it was thanks to Fraulein Maria.

"He's going to kick me?" Marta exclaimed in a fit of giggles.

"Well, not really. Just pretend. Here, let's show her, Friedrich." His son shook his head and backed away. "What? What's the matter?"

"I can't kick you, Fraulein. It would be wouldn't be gentlemanly." Georg crossed his arms and continued to be amused.

"For heaven's sake, even less so to kick your sister. I'm giving you permission for both just this once. I'd think you'd welcome the opportunity. Come on."

As much as he was enjoying the antics of his seven offspring, Georg found himself constantly drawn to the governess. He would gladly admit his opinion of her had altered in the few weeks since his return from Vienna. Then again, she was unlike anyone he had ever met. He imagined he was not the first person to not know what to make of her.

There was a gracefulness about her as she moved around with the children, and yet she seemed totally unaware of how it looked, flitting about with his daughters, laughing at Kurt and ruffling his hair after he tried to sing some outrageously high note. It was like she was one of them and if he thought about it too much, he knew she was closer to being one of them than not. Her youth and joie de vivre seemed boundless and completely undeterred by whatever the world may have thrown her way. That was it, he decided, she was an innocent. Was it any wonder she wanted to be a nun? He kept watching. Her kind was rare and his cynical side was sure she could never survive in the real world.

Don't fool yourself, he instantly chided himself. She stood up to you, didn't she? That fact alone made her as stubborn and brave as any man he commanded in the navy. She was smart and fearless and didn't seem to know the meaning of restraint. Suddenly the thought of her growing old in a convent seemed like a waste.

"Are you going to dance at the party, Fraulein Maria?"

"Me? Oh, no, Louisa. I don't think so." Maria brushed off the question as she herded the others into a new position.

"You know how to dance, don't you? You like to dance, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but… who'll dance with me? I won't be a guest at the party." Fraulein Maria shrugged at the obviousness of her answer and yet frowned at the disappointed look on the girl's face. "I'm going to be a nun, Louisa. I can tell you that there isn't much dancing at the Abbey. But I've danced plenty in my life so there's no need to feel sad for me."

"But you aren't a nun yet. I would think you'd want to dance as much as you can before _that_ happens." The governess gave her a disapproving look before giggling and clapping her hands to get her brood to focus.

Georg found himself in agreement with his daughter. It seemed a great pity for her to put aside something that so clearly suited her spirit. He wanted to see her dance, to see her face as she waltzed around the ballroom. He always believed there was something different about a woman's countenance when she was dancing. His Agathe was never more beautiful than when he held her in his arms on a ballroom floor.

His eyes became unfocused the more he contemplated the scenario of her dancing at the party. His eyes closed slowly as he let himself be her partner in this fantasy. He could hear the music, but she was his only vision. She smiled as he extended his hand to her and then gathered her to himself. Her body was soft and her hand in his almost weightless. They moved effortlessly together, the world around them spinning into oblivion until it was only the two of them in this strange world.

Her skin was smooth like ivory and a light from somewhere caught in her golden hair and bluest blue eyes. Her beauty was intoxicating, so natural and pure. He gathered her closer to himself, pulling her by her waist against his body. She was so warm and it felt so good to hold her in his arms. In this daydream world, she didn't resist him, rather her smile spread to her eyes. He heard her laugh and it was almost musical.

"Oh, Captain," she said in a voice low and flirtatious. "If you hold me like this much longer, I do hope that it means you intend to kiss me."

Georg's eyes flew open. Suddenly it didn't seem that there was a break in the heat at all. He reached a finger into his collar and tugged viciously, trying hard to breathe. How could he imagine such a thing? His children's governess? A postulant? She was on loan from a convent, for goodness sakes, under his protection and care. The very idea!

He fumbled to loosen his necktie with one hand while searching his pockets for a handkerchief to mop the sweat that seemed to be pouring endlessly down his face. After a few moments, he managed to gather himself enough to turn around and head back toward the house. It wasn't a sin to daydream, at least he didn't think so. Gosh, he hoped it wasn't.

"Get it together, man," he growled under his breath. It was a dance, nothing more than that. It wasn't as if he dreamed about—oh dear god, he needed a drink in the worst way.

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

Maria caught sudden movement out of the corner of her eye as she rearranged the children to practice the dance once again. She saw the Captain walk briskly away from his hiding place behind a tree and sighed. She had hoped the children would be able to surprise him and his guests at the party but now they were found out. That fact, however, didn't bother her nearly as much as his hasty retreat. She recalled his adamant words about the children singing in public, but this was very different. It would be in their own home and to make him proud.

"I think we've had enough for today," she exhaled wearily. "Go and play." She knew she wouldn't have to tell them twice. She slowly made her way to the terrace to figure out what to do with this development.

"Fraulein?" Liesl caught up to her and followed alongside her toward the house.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I want to hear more about dancing," Liesl gushed, her bright-eyes lighting up her face.

"Oh? Have you never danced with a boy?" Maria laughed.

"With a boy, yes, at school. But that isn't what I mean. What is it like to dance with a man? It must feel wonderful to have a man ask to take you out on the floor for everyone to see." Liesl's words were full of awe. Maria couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what it's like someday, Liesl. The truth is that I haven't danced since I was a girl in school." She glanced at Liesl watched her face fall into a frown, laughing sympathetically as she put a comforting arm around her. "When you are old enough to attend balls and parties, you will have men lined up at your feet to dance. There is no need to waste so much time wondering about it now." She waved the girl away to join her siblings and enjoy the day.

She reached the terrace alone. Maria let herself drop into a chair, rested her eyes closed and let the gentle breeze cool her face. Dancing with a man. Was it really such a magical thing to dance with a stranger, to be held awkwardly while he pushed and pulled you across a crowded floor? It was bad enough to suffer sore toes from the gawky boys who were forced to find a partner. Maria could only imagine what would happen with an eager clod with bigger feet.

As she slowly opened her eyes, she turned her head and caught sight of the Captain standing in his study window. Moments later he turned and saw her. They stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before he moved away from the window. Maria tried to interpret the look on his face, praying it wasn't displeasure at learning about the surprise. She decided it was unlikely. If there was one thing she knew about this man, it was that he would have told her in no uncertain terms what he really thought of her plan. Loudly.

But that was before something changed him. He was totally different now. Not totally, she admitted, he was still as dignified and self-possessed as he was the day she first arrived. Everything he said and did just seemed to ooze graciousness; the way he talked, chewed his food, even when he stormed the ballroom and slammed the doors open looking for her… she had to grant that it was done with a certain sophistication.

That last thought returned her mind to Louisa and Liesl's questions. If they had seen her bowing and curtseying like a fool to an unknown partner that day in the ballroom, they would have dropped all fantasies about her dance prowess at a party. As if anyone would ask her to dance! Maybe the Captain would out of pity, but even that wasn't very likely. She laughed.

Do decorated heroes of the Royal Navy even bother to ask a woman to dance? Or does he simply approach her, hold out his stark white glove-covered hand and effortlessly float her to the dance floor? Does he let his fierce blue eyes do the asking for him? The corners of her mouth curved slightly. It was ridiculous but she imagined it would happen just that way. If he asked her.

She imagined his other hand holding firm to her waist, confident and strong. She didn't have to fear looking foolish. All she had to do was follow him. In fact, all she would have to do is stare into his eyes and trust him to take her every step of the way.

And so she did in her sudden fantasy. She locked her gaze with his and surrendered to his masterful lead. He pulled her closer to him, his warm hand practically scorching the small of her back with his delicate gentle touch. He pulled their joined hands to his chest and leaned his face toward her, resting his soft cheek against hers. She felt his moist breath fanning against her ear and the steady beat of his heart against her palm.

"I always imagined we would move well together, Maria," he whispered, his deep baritone electrifying the swirling air around them.

"You imagined us dancing?" she replied breathlessly.

Captain von Trapp pulled his head back and smiled into her face, his lips lingering so close to hers. "I wasn't talking about dancing, Maria-"

_"Maria?" _

Her eyes flew open and she sat up so quickly that she nearly fell out of her chair. She crawled back upright clutching at her chest and panting heavily trying to recover. She wasn't sure which shocked her more, being startled out of a daydream or daydreaming about… no, she couldn't have been daydreaming about that. They were only dancing. That's all.

That's all.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people, Captain," she said sharply before looking up to see him hovering over her.

"Are you alright? You look incredibly flushed."

"Yes, it is getting a little bit warm," Maria mumbled, still trying to catch her breath, unable to look at him for too long. Not in his face. Not in his eyes. She ran her trembling hand through her hair. She was going to be a nun, for heaven's sake! She was going to take vows, put aside worldly *_gulp_* pleasures. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her fingertips, willing herself to pull herself together, praying he didn't notice the heat flaring in her cheeks.

Georg stared at the whiskey swirling around at the bottom of the tumbler in his hand. She wouldn't even look at him. Did she know what he was thinking as he watched her with the children? He exhaled and told himself to be calm and act like nothing happened.

It was only a daydream, she reasoned.

It was just a daydream, he told himself. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

"Uh, Fraulein? Frau Schmidt set out some refreshment. Perhaps you need a drink?" He set his glass down on the table and reached for the pitcher of lemonade.

"What? Oh, yes. Yes, a drink," she answered.

Georg's jaw dropped as she grabbed the tumbler and tossed back the rest of his whiskey.

**Next: E is for Education**


	5. Chapter 5: E is for Education

**E is for Education: a story where one character teaches something to the other**

"Fraulein, whatever you do, don't let the…" SLAM! "…door shut behind you."

It took a few beats for Maria to understand what he said and what happened. She spun quickly, grabbed the door handle and gave it a futile shake. "Oh, for heaven's sake! We're locked in!"

"That's why I tried to tell you to make sure it didn't close behind you. When it slams, the lock sticks."

"A bit sooner might have been helpful, Captain. What are we going to do?" Maria frantically shook the handle again. He let her work at it for half a minute before gently but firmly informing her it was no use. "But how are we going to get out?"

"Wait, I suppose. Someone will come looking for us eventually."

"Who?! Who knows we're here?!" The pitch of her voice was rising and the Captain noticed red blotches starting to spread over her throat.

"You mean, you didn't tell anyone that what we were doing?"

"Didn't you?"

"No, I just assumed that you would have told one of the children. Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten us into, Fraulein."

"Me?! Captain, if you knew the door would slam shut…"

"My, aren't we a bit high strung?" the Captain teased, aware that she wouldn't thank him for it. "This is not a big problem, Fraulein. We're not in any danger. We have daylight so we're not entirely in the dark…"

"It's a coffin with a window."

"It's a boat house!"

"Great, if it slips into the lake, we'll float awhile before we die."

"Fraulein, you have just got to relax! What is the problem anyway? I mean, besides being locked in my boat house?" Maria frantically ran her fingers through her hair and then tried the door one more time. "Fraulein?" She wouldn't look at him.

"I am a bit claustrophobic, Captain. More than a bit, actually."

"You're kidding." He let out a disbelieving chuckle at her confession.

"No, I'm not. There isn't anything funny about it at all."

"It is a _little_ funny," he teased, pinching his fingers together for emphasis. "How do you manage confession? Or do you have nothing to confess?"

"Don't be stupid," she hissed and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You may have a hard time believing this, Captain, but I can get myself out of a confessional. For one thing, they don't have ridiculous locks on them." She looked around. "Why is this a boat house when you couldn't fit a boat for a bath tub in here?" She looked at him and saw an amused smile stretch across his face. "Are you just going to stand there?! Can't you do something?"

"What do you propose I do?" He asked back, laughing incredulously.

"Break the door or something."

"Have you been reading romance novels, Fraulein?" he said, clicking his tongue with mock dismay. "The heroes in those books might be able to bust through a door for a fair damsel in distress, but I would only succeed in dislocating my shoulder." She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Of all the outrageous, irresponsible…" She pulled on the handle yet again, this time with as much force as she could muster. When it wouldn't open, she pressed her mouth against the space between the door and the jamb and began to call for help. The Captain found a small spot of wall and settled against it to watch her make a spectacle of herself. She finally stopped and leaned her forehead against the door. For a second he thought she was crying. Instead, she brought her fists above her head and began pounding.

"You know, I've seen this happen before," he mused after Maria pushed away from the immovable door. She began to pace in the small space available, mostly just turning in a circle. "Some of my men would lose their minds in the tight confines of the submarines. Even those who were experienced for years would snap." Maria looked at him as if waiting for him to have a point that would be of interest or use to her. He cleared his throat and maneuvered around her as he pretended to inspect the door as if being a submarine captain would make the boat house door submit to him. "So, I, uh… learned a few techniques to help them cope with that feeling of being constricted." As soon as he said that word, Maria squirmed with a renewed sense of being trapped. Her breathing began to become a bit ragged and heavy.

"Such as?"

"Oh, well, I don't think…"

"You mean you aren't going to tell me? Why bring it up at all?"

"Fraulein, I just don't think you'd be open to the idea."

"Do you know how desperate I am right now?"

"It's just that…"

"Captain, please… help me!"

"Well, I used to tell them that they should go back to their quarters and remove all their clothing." Maria blinked at him, and then her eyes flared.

"If you aren't going to do anything to help me, the least you could do is not make fun of me." She was trembling as she berated him.

"You insisted you wanted to know!"

"I should have known you wouldn't take this seriously. You seem to enjoy tormenting me."

"If anyone should feel offended, Fraulein, it should be me. It is clear that you are afraid of being locked in here with me like I'm some kind of fiend." The look Maria gave him didn't indicate that she was a long way from disagreeing with him. Partly to alleviate the tension with humor but mostly because he was a bit annoyed, his voice became melodramatic. "Don't worry, my dear postulant! I will not molest you and leave you unworthy of your vows!" He paused and waited for her angry retort, but it was if she wasn't even listening. He sighed and tried again. "You are safer with me in here that if you were in here alone, I assure you."

"It isn't you," Maria cried. "I told you, I don't like being locked in tight places. It feels like I am choking. My heart is beating like it might explode." She turned to the door and shook the handle again. "It just might, Captain, if we don't get out of here soon!"

"We've been here all of five minutes," the Captain chided. He watched her continue to wring her hands and spin in a circle. "Chances are we'll be here a while. You'll wear yourself out if you don't calm down. Don't you have a song you sing when…?"

"I can barely breathe, Captain. Singing isn't going to work. Nothing works except _getting out_!"

"We will. Someone will find us."

"You don't understand," she cried the words with renewed frenzy.

"Then explain it to me. What makes you so irrationally afraid of four walls and a door?" he asked snidely and then added with a laugh. "Were you habitually locked in a closet as a child?"

He meant it as a joke, but Maria flinched at his words. She quickly turned away from him and tried the door one more time, only it was half-hearted. He didn't mean to guess the true source of her fears. How could he possibly have known anyway? He kicked himself for making fun of her.

"I wish someone would come look for us," she said in a quivering whisper. "We could be here all night. I wonder what the Baroness will say. And the children. I really wish you would take this seriously, Captain." Her hand still gripped the door tightly and he could see her knuckles turning white.

"Fraulein," he called softly. The Captain moved to the small space between them. "Please turn around." She slowly turned but wouldn't look up. He stepped closer and reached out with both arms. At first Maria took a tentative step back, but he rested a hand firmly on each shoulder and held her at arm's length. He lowered his gaze, willing her to look up at him. It disturbed him to see her eyes, large and round, almost bulging from her face in fear. "Listen to me. Someone will come and find us. The grounds are extensive but there really are only so many places we could be." Maria nodded.

"I know you're right but…"

"Close your eyes." Maria obeyed but with a weary sigh. "Think about a wide open space. Picture it in your mind." He felt her shoulders slump under his touch.

"Captain, I know you mean to help but…"

"I know! Think about your mountain."

"My… my mountain?" Her eyes popped open in surprise.

"Yes, picture a beautiful sunny day… no clouds, just blue sky as far as your eye can see."

"How did you know about my mountain?" The Captain smiled slightly; it was starting to work.

"Not very important right now. Close your eyes, please," he ordered gently and once again she did as she was told. "Now, there you are out in the field, spinning in the tall grass, singing your heart out. You can feel the breeze in your hair, in your face. Can you picture it? Can you feel it?"

"S-s-spinning?"

"There's so much space up there, isn't that right? The green grass just goes forever and over the edge of the mountainside. You could run for hours." Maria nodded. He could feel the tension start to leave her as her breathing evened out. He continued to soothe her with images of the airy open spaces until she took a deep breath and exhaled and smiled.

"Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome. Now, you can open your eyes if you want but if you start to panic, just… close them again and return to your mountain." She slowly opened her eyes. He never thought of himself as an oblivious man by any means but it struck him for the first time since he met her that her eyes were quite pretty.

In fact, he couldn't help it; he saw her differently now. She wasn't some ridiculous caricature from a child's fairy tale. She _was_ cheerful and sweet and undeniably lovely, but all that covered up a vulnerability that he had to admit he found interesting and maybe even a little enchanting. More than enchanting, if he were to be honest. Her face was calmer but still flushed from her hysterics… she practically glowed. She no longer gasped for air, but her lips remained slightly parted. Before he could stop himself he wondered what it might be like to kiss her.

"Captain?" Maria glanced down at his hands which had started gently rubbing her shoulders.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he coughed, pulling his hands away as if she were fire. "I didn't, I mean… please forgive me, Fraulein."

"How did you know about my mountain?" She quickly changed the subject.

"Hmmm? Oh, well… the children must have told me."

"But you described it like you have been there."

Before he could respond, they both heard the sound of shouting coming from the path that led up to the villa. The Captain and Maria quickly began banging on the door and calling out to the search party. In seconds, they could hear the children's cry of discovery and the pounding of feet as they ran to the boat house.

It only took a few minutes more for the door to be opened. The Captain stood back and let Maria exit first. She gave him a brief embarrassed look as she squeezed by him through the door. He tried to reassure her with a quick smile but the children swarmed her once she was in the open and her attention was on their barrage of questions.

"Children, give Fraulein Maria some space, please." She looked up at him as soon as he said it, her face stricken. He knew in that moment that he was in possession of very delicate information, something she never intended for him to know. He wished he could somehow let her know that it was safe with him, that she was safe with him.

Eventually the small crowd started back toward the house. Maria dropped behind the group of children and into step with the Captain.

"Thank you for helping me," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the ground ahead of them, her hands clasped behind her back. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I wasn't lying about the men on submarines. It didn't happen a lot, but it did happen," he explained dismissively, but then he stopped walking, causing her to stop and look up. "And that is why I must apologize to you, Fraulein. I should have recognized the situation and been more sensitive with the things I said."

Maria smiled and shook her head and turned to start walking again. "You more than made up for it by teaching me that trick."

Georg simply nodded. He didn't tell her that he thought he learned something, too.

_Thanks so much for the reviews and the follows. I don't own 'The Sound of Music' or the characters. Frowny face._

**Next: F is for Faith**


	6. Chapter 6: F is for Faith

_A/N: I'm not very proud to admit this but I wrote the bulk of this while sobbing through an episode of 'Touched by an Angel' this morning. For real. I was doing OK until the dad told his eldest daughter "You were the first baby I ever loved." Waterworks._

_So… a word about my TSOM headcanon. I think my post-Anschluss Maria is more like the Maria in 'B is for Burden'… strong, ready to climb ev'ry mountain and ford every stream for her family. But, you know, she's human, too. And I don't think it is too OOC to imagine that she had a brief spiritual crisis. _

_I didn't want to get preachy so it's not a very long story. And just a reminder that these are not in order so (yay!) they're back to being married. For now. Let me know what you think…_

_Disclaimer: same as A-E… _

**F is for Faith: one character explains an aspect of their religious or moral philosophy to the other**

Maria wasn't aware she was holding her breath until Georg put the newspaper down. He had just finished reading the headline story to her, his voice tired and serious and yet calm. They sat in solemn silence at the small table in their hotel suite, their room service breakfast untouched. Maria waited for him to say something, anything. As for her, she had only one thing on her mind.

"Georg," she finally broke the silence. "What about the children? We have to know if they are all right!" He nodded quickly and reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sure they are fine," he answered soothingly. "The reports say it was peaceful. But don't worry, I plan to call home as soon as possible." It disgusted him to characterize the Anschluss in such terms; the fact that it was peaceful mattered little to him. But he could hear the panic in her voice and feel it in her trembling hand. "I also think we should go home. I'm sorry, Maria, I know our plans were to—"

"No! Of course we must go home! I don't know if I could possibly enjoy the rest of this honeymoon now." Georg raised an eyebrow at her. "I mean… I don't mean… Oooh."

"I know, I know what you mean. But we won't be going in the next five minutes, so please try not to work yourself up about it. We should finish breakfast at least and then I'll see if the hotel manager can help me telephone Max." Georg brought her hand to his lips and gave it a quick kiss before releasing it and reaching for his coffee. Maria shook her head.

"I can't eat, not now!" The words tripped out of her mouth. "I'm too worried! It's so wrong to be separated from the children while all this is happening. I'm worried because I don't know what this means, Georg! I don't understand how this could be happening!"

He watched his wife stand and begin pacing around the room wringing her hands until her knuckles were white. He stood up slowly, barely taking a step toward her before she crashed into his arms.

"I'm not sure I understand it any better than you, my dear. This has been brewing for a while now. I honestly believed the chancellor's word that Austria would remain independent." He rested his cheek against her head and sighed heavily. They clung to each other for a while, unsure what else to say.

"Should I start packing?" Maria finally moved out of his arms, her nerves making it impossible to stay still for long. "Maybe we should go try to telephone Max first. Or I could try to telephone and you can try to fix the train tickets?" She froze and looked at him wide-eyed. "You don't think the trains will stop running, do you? How will we get home if…"

Georg shook his head and ran his hands up and down her arms trying to calm her. "We will get home, Maria. I can promise you that."

"The last time I was this frightened I ran away to the Abbey," Maria said with a short laugh, giving him a knowing look. "I've been told not to run away from my problems. I've got to… _we've_ got to face them."

"Maybe just this once you should run away," he suggested to a surprised Maria. "I think you should go to that little church we've passed a few times this week and pray. Find your peace. You'll feel better and when you get back we can deal with the details." He moved closer to her and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Maria nodded and slowly withdrew from him to get dressed.

Maria returned from the church less than an hour later looking even more distressed than when she left. She entered the suite quietly, barely acknowledge her husband when he greeted her and headed straight into the bedroom. Georg followed her and found her curled up on the bed in tears.

"Maria?" He sat next to her and put a hand on her hip.

"I… I couldn't pray," she sniffed. Her eyes were red and swollen, but most disconcerting was the despair that wracked her entire body. "I tried, but suddenly I didn't know how. I didn't know… who. All my life, I thought I prayed to a God of love, of goodness and truth. How can God let this happen? I don't understand how there can be things like war and death and victory for evil in the world if there is such a God."

"Deep down you know there is," he reassured her, wiping away a tear that escaped. "You're only human, Maria, and even the strongest and most fearless believers have moments of doubt. It isn't a sin. You're being tested."

Maria sat up slowly but said nothing. She was about to contradict him, tell him that it was more than being tested. There was once a very real time when she planned to give her whole life to God, to forsake everything and live a life of service to him. Her faith was deep, the fabric of who she was. This wasn't a test, it was a crisis. Suddenly it felt like a part of her body had been cut off. But as she looked into his eyes, she couldn't dismiss his words too quickly. He was older and experienced sadness and loss, too.

"You've been tested. How long did it take you to believe again?"

Georg shifted on the bed until he was more comfortably settled against the headboard and then he gestured for her to rest against him. He tucked her hair behind her ear, repeating the stroke as he started to talk.

"You should know, Maria. A long time," he paused for a moment. "I was never very religious, you know. I believed in my country, in the war we were fighting, in the navy… when it came to that, I was as fervent as your Reverend Mother. God, however, was rather low on the list of things that gave me a sense of purpose. I was bitter when I lost my career in the navy," he cleared his throat and pulled her a bit closer. "But when Agathe died I started to seriously question what kind of loving deity would do that to me." Maria hummed her understanding.

"You were angry." It was a statement more than an observation.

"I was angry at God, at her, at myself. I figured that if God would take away everything I ever cared about, he didn't deserve my devotion. Besides, it hurt too much to keep asking why. I thought that if I just accepted that there was no God, the pain would stop and the bitterness would go away."

"But I'm not angry," Maria interjected, trying to speak through threatening tears. "I just feel… nothing. That there is nothing holding this world together. On my loneliest days, I never felt like this."

"You aren't alone," Georg said. "You're never alone." The warmth of her in his arms vanished as she quickly sat up and looked at him imploringly.

"How can you be so sure? What is to stop Berlin from demanding your service now?" Maria started to tremble. "Is this God's plan? He brought us together only to tear us apart? No. It makes no sense. There's no meaning in it! There's no meaning in any of it." Maria dissolved into tears and allowed her husband to hold her again. He waited and whispered quiet endearments until she became calm.

"Listen to what you just said, that God brought us together. Do you believe that? Because I do," he reasoned. "But let's say there is no such thing as divine Providence working in our lives. In that case, you and I were merely brought together by fate. And fate could tear us apart at any moment. There are no miracles. There is no hope. Whatever happens will happen whether we believe or not."

"You sound like Max."

"Hmm, don't I?"

Maria stared at her husband. This man next to her was the answer to prayers she never uttered, the very happiness she long denied her soul to dream. He was the fulfillment of every desire in her heart, those newly discovered and those still hidden. The first time he kissed her, it was like the scales had fallen from her eyes and she saw herself clearly for the first time. She was meant to be with him. No man would ever be able to make her feel the way he did. She couldn't believe for one second that it was anything less than a miracle.

"I don't believe that," she whispered. "I know that every moment of my life before we met was just one step closer to finding you."

"Maria, you blew into my life and it was like my lungs filled with air for the first time in forever, like I was given a chance to live again. I marvel at the way you fit so perfectly into my life." Georg brought at hand to her cheek and caressed it gently. "You love me in a way that no one has ever loved me. You are so perfect and beautiful and the fact that you are mine… don't you see? How can I _not_ believe in a good and loving God?"

"Oh, Georg," Maria cried, her face crumpling as she pressed his hand to her cheek. "I love you so much. Thank you for that. I'm just so scared. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to take you away from me."

"We won't think about it right now," he said soothingly, reaching to kiss away each tear until the last one fell.

"You're right," Maria nodded after a cleansing breath. "We've been blessed to come this far together. We can't give up hope, no matter what. I feel so much better now."

"I'm glad to hear you say it," Georg said, a bit of hesitance in his voice. "Because I couldn't get through to the villa. The whole world is on the phone right now, it seems."

"I see."

"I did arrange our tickets, but the earliest we can leave is tomorrow morning," he continued, eying his wife carefully. It was bad enough they had to cut the honeymoon short. He had wanted to give her some good news to cling to until they were able to get home. But instead of disappointment, he noted a rather pleased look on her face. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

"So what you are telling me, Captain, is that we still have one more night in Paris," Maria said, working a finger around his tie and scooting herself closer.

"I'm afraid so," he mumbled, her kisses drifting until she was nipping gently on his ear.

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

_Sorry, but I'm going to leave the there. You'll have to use your imagination. And know some of you, you already are…_

**Next: G is for Greeting**


	7. Chapter 7: G is for Greeting

_A quick one this time. Just a quick, fluffy piece of Georg and Maria fluff. I borrowed the premise of this one-shot and am very thankful to the source. I hope I do it justice. Please let me know what you think about this, reviews really make my day. Thanks! Disclaimer: same as A-F… characters and TSOM are not mine._

**G is for Greeting: A story about how the two characters met**

Georg held the door open for Maria who scooted past him with a few swift steps, quickly taking his hand as he followed. She had feared he would be cross with her for making them miss the last train to the city but once again he reminded her (between stolen kisses) that they were on their honeymoon and there was no itinerary or timetable. She smiled, remembering how he had said as much on the third morning after they arrived when he kept her in bed until it was nearly lunch time.

Georg strode purposely by her toward a deserted desk. Maria turned to look around the small sitting area that she guessed was to serve as a reception area. It was a quaint little inn and she was sure they would be comfortable and fine to stay there.

She turned her head toward the desk when she heard three sharp rings of the service bell. Georg looked over at her and winked, something that still made her knees turn to jelly. She responded in turn with a coy smile, hoping it would not be too long before they could be alone for the rest of the night.

Soon an old man came in through a private door and shuffled his feet toward the desk with little to no sense of hurry. Behind him came a woman of similar age, who moved slowly to the bottom of the stairs and waited patiently for business to be conducted so she could show them to their room. The old man, however, leaned over and looked Georg up and down and then shot a curious and unpleasant look at Maria. He shook his head with a frown before finally speaking.

"What is it that you want?"

"We'd like a room, of course," Georg said lightly, reaching for Maria's hand. He was surprised to find the man to be so unfriendly but they were late and supposed they had interrupted his dinner.

"I see," the old man said, shooting another scrutinizing glance at Maria who had stepped a little closer, noting that there was an obvious difference in age between the two prospective guests. It was usually the most tell-tale sign. "For one night, I presume?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And no luggage?"

"Well, no. We don't have any bags, but…"

"Then I'm afraid I cannot serve you," the old man stated flatly. "This is a respectable hotel."

"Now, hold on a moment," Georg said sharply, squaring his shoulders back. "What exactly are you implying?"

"I'm sorry, was I too subtle? You and your…" The man gestured at Maria with a condescending wave of his hand. "… will have to find somewhere else to spend your evening together."

Georg fumed for a minute before leaning closer toward the proprietor of the inn so he could whisper. He was no longer interested in excusing the man's poor manners and would certainly not let Maria be subjected to this man's disgusting assumptions. "I would like a room for one night for _my wife_ and me. If you'd be so kind." The old man scoffed.

"Sir, I have been the proprietor of this establishment for many, many years. I've seen many couples come through those doors, late at night with no luggage looking for a room for one night… they all claim to be married."

"But we _are_ married!" Georg brought his fist down fast, but with some restraint. Maria jumped quickly to his side and placed a calming hand on his forearm.

"Darling, let me try to explain," she said quietly to him to which he rolled his eyes to the ceiling before bringing his head down to rest wearily in one of his hands.

"It's very simple, you see," Maria said, ignoring Georg's exasperation and turning toward the old man with a smile. "We are staying in Paris for our honeymoon but today we chose to come and explore the beautiful countryside. The city is lovely, of course, so much to see and do there, but we just felt the need for a change, if you know what I mean."

"Maria, my dear, please…"

"One moment, Georg, I'm going to explain," Maria hushed him.

"Then please make it quick," he groaned, his impatience with the proprietor starting to include his wife. Maria just patted his arm and continued.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. We came by train, naturally, but somehow we missed the last one back to the city. It's my fault, I know," she quickly gave her husband a look that said she knew what he was thinking. "But the sky was so blue today and the fields and flowers were so fragrant, I just had to be part of it. I just kept walking and walking. At one point I saw this little path and I wanted so desperately to see where it went. The trail was like something out of a storybook, I almost expected to see fairies flitting about in the trees." By this time, the woman by the stairs had moved to stand next to the man behind the desk, her eyes fixed on Maria with wonder. "Anyway, I lost all track of time and before we knew it the last train to Paris left without us. So that's why we're here so late, and that's why we have no luggage." Maria shrugged, both palms straight up in the air as she did so. A disbelieving chuckle rumbled out of the old man.

"Unbelievable," he said before turning toward Georg. "Wherever did you find her?"

"Nonnberg Abbey," Maria volunteered before her husband could say a word.

"A convent? You met… in a convent?!" This time it was the old lady who asked.

"Actually no," Georg interjected quickly. "You wouldn't, I mean… you don't really want to hear the story of how we met. I assure you, though, that we are married and simply need a place to sleep for the night. Please, may we have a room?"

"Actually, I would like to hear it," the woman said, settling against the desk, her eyes fixed on Maria. "I am having a rather difficult time figuring out how a distinguished gentleman would end up married to a nun." With a romantic twinkle in her eye, she added with a low voice, "Was it love at first sight?"

"Heaven's no!" Maria laughed. "He was disagreeable the moment I set eyes on him, regarding me with a menacing scowl..."

"If I scowled, it was because I found you trespassing," Georg pushed in. "Anyway, I seem to recall you were rather pleased with how I looked, or at least that I didn't look at all like a sea captain."

"Pleased? Well, maybe relieved is a better word. It was absolutely humiliating the way you inspected and studied me right there in the hall," she returned. "Making me spin around, making superficial judgments about my clothes, my hair…"

"I said nothing about your hair!" Georg exclaimed. "But even you have to admit that dress was an awful eye-sore." He turned to the couple behind the desk. "She had to plumb the depths of the charity barrel and find the only dress the poor didn't want."

"It wasn't that bad," Maria defended. "But if we want to discuss hideous clothing, perhaps I should mention those get-ups the children were wearing when we met, hmm?"

"Uniforms," Georg sighed.

"Straightjackets."

"Just a moment, please," the man interrupted. "Children?"

"Yes," Maria stated matter of fact. "I was there to be a governess for his seven children."

"Seven?!" the woman cried. Maria nodded knowingly.

"You should have seen the darlings, dressed like little sailors, marching in a line to the shrill pitch of a most wretched whistle…"

"Now hold on just a minute, Maria," Georg cut in. "I thought you liked my silly whistle."

"You must be joking! Making anyone answer to a whistle is bad enough, but children?"

Georg shook his head in disbelief and stepped back. "Well, this has been quite enlightening, my dear."

"Oh, Georg, really," Maria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I only said all that about the whistle because you told me how you knew you loved me when I sat on the pinecone."

"That stupid pinecone," he said, a single laugh bursting from his throat as he turned to the proprietor. "She was late for dinner…"

"I was only a few minutes late and besides, no one bothered to tell me exactly when dinner was to be served…"

"… and she screamed like a banshee because the children put a pinecone on her chair. A pinecone! You would have thought she sat on a pin cushion!"

"Did you even see the size of that thing?" Maria clenched her fists at her side and glared at Georg.

"You made my children cry." Georg turned squarely toward Maria.

"You told me that you fell in love with me when I sat on that ridiculous pinecone," Maria challenged, her tone even and irritated.

"And you told me you fell in love with me when I blew that silly whistle," Georg countered, just as exasperated.

Maria and Georg looked away from each other in frustration as a tense silence rose up between them. The old lady turned to the old man waiting for him to say or do something.

"Montrez-leur à manger quatre, Linette," the old man muttered, handing her a key. She looked at the key and then back to the old man. "Seules les personnes mariées se chamaillent comme ça."*

*_"Show them to room four, Linette. Only married people bicker like that." If google translate can be trusted. I don't speak French. At all._

**Next: H is for Haunt**


	8. Chapter 8: H is for Haunt

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and/or followed these stories. It is such an encouragement to me and helps me keep writing. I don't own TSOM, the characters, or much of anything really. As it has happened before, I had to play a bit with the interpretation of the prompt._

_When you're done reading this, look up and read 'The Balcony' by augiesannie. Well, review first and then go read it. Or reread it, as the case may be._

**H is for Haunt: A story about one character watching over the other**

I.

He stepped up to the door quietly and peered inside. He was not prepared for what he saw. A shadow passed carefully and quietly to the center of the room, turning in slow circles to take in the ornate walls and molded ceilings. As upset as this disregard for his privacy and property made him, he couldn't bring himself to move or speak. He was filled with a mixture of fascination and irritation. She wasn't at all what he had expected. For one thing, she was young, he guessed a mere fistful of years older than his Liesl. And for another, her trespassing indicated she did not possess the kind of discipline that made him go Nonnberg in the first place.

Just as he was about to make his presence known, the intruder bowed. Then she curtsied. Then she bowed _and_ curtsied. It was a most spectacularly absurd display and Georg found himself almost frozen with aggravation to know what to do with this creature the convent had sent to him. At best he had been misunderstood and at worst, duped. Finally, he could watch no longer. In an instant he shoved both doors open, bracing them with his arms as they slammed against the ballroom walls with a loud bang. The postulant was startled to see him, and quickly ran from the room.

"In the future you'll kindly remember there are certain rooms in this house which are not to be disturbed," he said sternly as he took a good look at her. She was smiling back at him, unafraid and completely unapologetic.

II.

He wished she hadn't separated herself from the rest of his audience. Elsa and Max sat across from him, just beyond the children gathered on the floor at his feet, but she stood off to the side, leaning gently against the side table. Her position made it impossible not to be obvious about it, but she was like gravity and he couldn't keep his gaze from drifting toward her as he sang. For reasons he couldn't fathom, he stopped bothering to try.

Maybe it was because even in her quiet contemplative state, she still looked like she had something to say. Whatever it was, he was sure it was truth, sure she was incapable of any other type of thought. She called it being outspoken, as if it were some kind of curse. A most unusual curse, then, for it opened his eyes and restored his heart.

Perhaps it was the look on her face, so open and real. He believed he could read her like words on a page. Her smile grew with each glance until he could feel the radiance of it clear across the room, warming his hands against the guitar and the song floating past his lips.

Maybe it was the dress and the way that particular shade of blue sparked her eyes, revealing her heart and soul and giving that very moment between them color and brightness.

Whatever it was, he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

III.

He belonged inside, where the champagne flowed and the gentlemen and ladies spun around the ballroom in their glittering finery. He was born into it, and served it honorably (according to the medals pinned to his chest and hanging around his neck). It was what he knew, or at least thought he knew. Things were happening, the world was changing. He was feeling more and more a stranger in that world.

She was outside with the children trying to dance with Kurt. Her laughter was music, sweeter to his ears than the orchestra inside. But there, out in the open, where the moonlight gathered and danced on her skin, her charm was her gown, and her smile adorned her like diamonds. She was scented with goodness and a boundless capacity to love. This was where she belonged.

He stood between both of these worlds, slid on his white gloves and made his way toward her. At that moment he wanted to do more than simply watch her.

IV.

He wasn't used to being so unnerved, to feeling so unable to sort through the confusion raging inside his head. She had run away, fled into the night without a word to anyone except a short note that seemed more like an excuse than a reason.

But then she came back. He watched it happen from the house as his children rushed to embrace her, nearly knocking her over with their joy. She took in their love with arms wide open, refusing to deny or hide her own happiness to see them again. Her hips and limbs swayed with a new confidence and self-possession.

And then with one sentence—"_Father's going to be married_."- he saw it all vanish and for one briefest of moments she froze, her voice thick with bewilderment. By the time her eyes met his she had partially recovered. She faced him with stiff bravery and spoke with a strained neutrality… she wasn't back. Not to stay, anyway.

Now he watched her again, this time wandering aimlessly around the grounds. Her head remained bowed and her steps seemed uncertain. The figure he saw displayed none of her earlier stoicism. This was not the woman who sang about rain and roses, who brought music into their house and laughter into their lives. How could he have been such a fool and let it come to this?

He was a bit relieved when her silhouette melted into the shadows and disappeared. For the first time since he met her, he couldn't bear to watch her another minute.

V.

He knew he wasn't the only one watching her this time; the guests, eager for a glimpse of the woman who captured his heart, were as mesmerized as he to see her making her way gracefully down the aisle.

His children watched her with a meaningful pride, beaming as if they had known all along how much they needed her, how much _he_ needed her.

The Sisters watched her from afar, understanding the significance of this, her final journey. She belonged to them first, but very soon she would belong to him forever.

She was simply radiant and his heart swelled with each step that brought her closer, for while everyone was watching her, her eyes were solely on him.

VI.

The children settled down to sleep on a soft patch of grass, huddled together like newborn puppies. He was proud of them all. They had walked and climbed valiantly well into the early morning without fear or complaint. He was sure they were safe enough for a little rest.

He watched her calm them with soft words, humming quietly until the last of them closed his eyes. Satisfied, she made her way to his side. He opened his arms to her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her sleepy head and he gathered her into his embrace.

"Go on, get some sleep," he ordered gently after a few minutes of holding her. "This has been a very long day."

"What about you?" she asked, stifling a yawn as she snuggled closer to steal his warmth.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Besides, someone's got to keep watch."

**Next: I is for Invite**


	9. Chapter 9: I is for Invite

_A/N: Ok, time for a rating (and gratuitous fluff) warning. I kept it firmly in the 'T' realm, but I know some of you… try to control yourselves. Disclaimer: Same as A-H_

**I is for Invite: One character invites the other to… **

They spent their fifth morning in Paris lazily. Maria wrote postcards as Georg poured over the morning headlines. He would peek over the edge of the paper every so often just to watch her adorably chewing on the pen as she labored over choosing the right card for each children and then write it out with a careful hand.

When she had finally finished the last one and double checked that they were stamped, Georg reached for them. He shuffled through them with a smile.

"I'm very much impressed, my dear," he told her as he stood up and reached for his suit jacket. "I need to run a couple errands, so I'll be glad to drop these off at the desk on my way out."

"If you're willing to wait a few minutes for me to take a shower and get dressed, I'll come with you."

"No, no, you stay," Georg insisted. "Why don't you take a nice long bath? I'll be back before the water gets cold." Maria shrugged and made a face. "What, doesn't a bath appeal to you?"

"Not really," Maria said plainly. "A shower is suffice. The point is to get clean, is it not?"

"Well, sure, but I thought maybe you'd like to take your time, relax. Pamper yourself." He laughed at the blank look she gave him at the very idea. Before they were married he promised himself that he would be patient and helpful, that he would be mindful of her comfort at all times. Whatever he had expected from his bride, history should have told him she would surprise him and delightfully so. She embraced every experience of their honeymoon with such eager enthusiasm that her disinterest in his suggestion to a hot bath floored him. "Do you have something against taking a bath?"

"How silly," she scoffed. "I took baths all my life." Georg could have sworn he saw her shudder as she said it. At that moment, he thought he might understand. Sometimes he forgot how different her life had been before she came to him and from what little detail he knew about her upbringing, he suspected they were not talking about the same kind of bath.

"But didn't you ever take a hot bubble bath?" he asked. Maria laughed loudly.

"Of course, darling!" she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "Every night I lived at the convent! Then the Sisters and I would do our hair and discuss the latest Paris fashions." He put his hands up in surrender, repeated his promise not to be too long as he kissed her on the top of her head, and departed.

As he walked from the hotel to the bank, Georg decided to add one more place to the list of errands. Once he found a small shop and made a few purchases, he hurried back to the hotel quite proud of himself and his idea. Maria had a practical nature that he adored but this was their honeymoon and a perfect opportunity to indulge in some spoiling.

Besides, once the image of Maria lazily soaking in a deep tub of steam and bubbles formed in his mind, it was difficult to think of much else.

He entered their suite and was pleased to see that she was still in her robe, engrossed in some reading while he was gone. She hopped up once she realized he was there, somewhat embarrassed that the time got away from her and she was still not dressed.

"I'm sorry, darling, I haven't washed and dressed yet," she apologized as she rushed toward the bathroom, but Georg cut her off.

"No, I'm glad," he said, urging her to stay put with a gentle hand on her arm. Maria noted a mischievous glint in his eye and stepped away from him suspiciously.

"What are you up to? I know that look," she muttered, somewhat intrigued and yet quite cautious.

"It's a surprise. Can't I surprise you?"

"I'm not sure," she said, tilting her head sideways. "What is in that package?"

"You'll see," he promised, a grin spreading wide across his face. He slowly backed away from her until he was in the bathroom. He winked as he closed the door. Maria could hear him laugh at her exasperated groan.

Minutes later, he opened the door to find her sitting on the arm of a nearby chair, her chin resting on her hand, clearly tired of waiting. She looked up and gasped at the vision of him standing in a cloud of steam. He had shed his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. The humidity left his hair in quite a state of disarray, extra curls flopping across his forehead. She thought she had witnessed all manners of becoming undone with this man, but this was a first and she had to admit she liked it.

"What on earth…?" Maria managed to say as he quickly made his way to her and took her by the hand. He pulled her into the bathroom to reveal his surprise.

The room was dimly lit with a scattering of candle, and she was greeted instantly by the aroma of lavender. Finally her gaze settled on the bathtub, filled to the top with foam and bubbles. She stifled a giggle, unsure of how she was supposed to react.

"What is all this?"

"I thought it was about time you had a treat," he said. "I'm sure the baths you've had in the past were quite fit for a mountain girl and a nun from the Abbey, but this bath is for my Baroness who deserves every comfort and luxury, especially during her honeymoon."

"This is silly," she replied, dipping her fingers into the silky suds. She shook her head, but her eyes were wide, and the smile on her face told him she was more than pleased.

"I mean it, Maria," he said as he took her hand in both of his. "I want to give you the finest of everything. I want to fuss over you, indulge you and spoil you forever. Even if it is something as simple as drawing you a bath. I don't want a single day to go by when I don't show in some way just how incredibly special you are." He lifted her hand to his lips and rested his lips softly in her palm. Slowly he kissed the inside of her wrist and then further up her arm and finally tugging her gently to himself, he kissed her deeply on the lips.

"I don't know what to say," Maria said breathlessly when he released her.

"I do. Get in." Georg reached for the sash on her robe. At first Maria pulled away and resisted his attempt to undress her, but he simply raised his eyebrow and she gave in.

"I feel like the subject of one of those French oil paintings we saw at the museum," she giggled, stepping one leg into the hot water.

"There's no comparison, my dear," Georg answered smoothly. "You are far more beautiful."

"Quite the charming bath attendant, aren't you," Maria said cheekily as she lowered into the bubbles. She let out a long breath as the hot water consumed her. "This is very nice. And it smells wonderful. But…" She looked at him, clearly unsure of something.

"Is something wrong?"

"No! No, it isn't that, but… all this trouble just to get clean."

"You're supposed to relax," he said patiently, reaching for a bath sponge and dipping it in the water. He squeezed water out over her shoulders and then gently began to wash her back. Maria stared into his eyes as he did. It felt so nice and she wondered how she was supposed to relax when he was doing things like that. "Close your eyes, lean back. Just rest and let your muscles soak."

Maria nodded and closed her eyes. Slowly she reclined her head on the edge of the tub, letting out heavy sighs of happiness. Georg smiled as her arms moved back and forth through the soapy surface, small waves splashing across her collarbone and shoulders. She was starting to get the idea.

"I never saw a tub as large as this until I went to live at the Abbey," she murmured lazily. "I thought it was because it was used to do laundry. Then I saw the one in my bathroom at the villa and wondered if laundry was part of my duties." She laughed at herself, then opened her eyes halfway. "It isn't like I haven't thought about something like this before, you know. It just seemed a bit… too indulgent for a postulant." She shook her head lightly as let out a small laugh. "I don't know, it just seemed a mark of decadence and excess. I think it's because I saw this movie once when I was a girl in school and there was this scene of a Roman empress taking a milk bath. It was quite scandalous. At one point, the empress invited her servant to get in the bath with her."

"You shock me!"

"_Dacia, you're a butterfly with the sting of a wasp. Take off your clothes. Get in here and tell me about it,_" Maria quoted with a sultry voice before bursting into laughter. "My friend and I promised to never tell anyone what we saw. We were sure we'd get into all kinds of trouble if we were found out."

"Now that- you sneaking around and getting into trouble. That doesn't shock me." Georg laughed as he moved away from the edge of the tub. He hung her robe on the back of the door and set a couple of fresh towels nearby. He opened the door to leave her to enjoy the rest of her bath, but turned to see her one last time. She was sitting up, one arm hanging over the side of the tub while the other pillowed her head against the edge. She was looking at him dreamily.

"This bathtub sure is big," she practically purred.

"No French painter could possibly capture how absolutely alluring you are right now," he said in a low raspy voice.

"Captain," she hummed seductively. "_Take off your clothes. Get in here and tell me about it._"

_A/N: The movie quote is from 'The Sign of the Cross' (1932). Definitely pre-code. Definitely. _

**Next: J is for Jest**


	10. Chapter 10: J is for Jest

_A/N: Sorry for the delay… holidays, other writing projects, blah blah blah. Disclaimer: Same as A thru I_.

**J is for Jest: One character teases the other**

Georg stared at himself in the mirror as he ran his fingertips over the hair at his temple. He didn't think of himself as a vain man, but he had always taken some satisfaction in the fact that he kept in shape and was as fit as most men at least ten years his junior. However, having a young wife was starting to make him more aware of his aging appearance.

"I should do something about this," he mumbled, only vaguely aware that Maria was watching. He turned his head back and forth, inspecting the touch of gray on either side of his face.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Maria exclaimed as she forced him to abandon his reflection. She swatted his hands away and smoothed his hair back into place, ran her hands over his shoulders and straightened his jacket collar.

"Nothing," he coughed, quickly trying to dismiss the subject. "Just forget it." Maria stopped fussing and returned her gaze to his hair.

"Tell me," she insisted, but he said nothing. "Are you talking about… that?!" She pointed to his hair as he tried to duck away in embarrassment. "You must be joking."

Georg sighed resignedly and turned her to face the mirror next to him. Her face was blank as she stared at the two of them standing together, but he raised his eyebrows at her as if it were obvious.

"Look at us, Maria," he moaned. "Look at how young you are and how… old… I am." Instantly she whipped her head around to stare at him.

"You are _not_ old," she chided. "You are strong and healthy and, at the risk of feeding an abnormally robust ego, you are incredibly handsome. I have never once looked at you and thought you were old."

"Yes, well…"

"Is this because of what happened at the hat shop? Oh, Georg," Maria shook her head as she fought the smile that was creeping slowly across her face. "Honestly, the man was a hundred years old. I think I saw him trying to sell a hat to one of the display racks. He could barely see beyond his nose." Georg winced as Maria laughed at the memory. "And now I'll probably never get you to buy a new hat."

"I don't like to wear hats," he said.

"I thought all gentlemen wore hats. And you look quite dashing in that nice wool Tyrolean hat I picked out for you, I must say." She smiled at him but his mood remained.

"That's not the point," he grumbled. "I always thought I looked like my father when I wore a hat. But it turns out…" He stopped and rolled his eyes. Maria started to giggle again. It was no use. "It turns out I look like _your_ father."

"Well, I suppose it's poss—"

"Please do not finish that thought, Maria," he warned. He turned them both to look in the mirror once again and sighed. "I look old standing next to you. I'm sure everyone thinks so. That blind goat was the only one who said it out loud." Maria studied their reflections carefully, wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder.

"All I see is a very happy woman," she replied sweetly. "_Very_ happy." After a couple seconds of silence, she stood up straight and glared back at his reflection. "Fine, then. What are you going to do about it? Not stand next to me anymore?"

"Well, no, of course not," Georg shot back. "I just thought that maybe… that I could… well, you know. Maybe I could dye my hair." Maria's jaw dropped.

"You can't be serious," she said with shock.

"Well, it was only a thought."

"Oh, Captain," she howled before falling into a fit of laughter. Georg put his hand on the vanity and looked up at the ceiling as she didn't even bother to control it.

"Never mind," he hissed, but it did nothing to stop her. He turned away to leave. "Perhaps when you're finished having your fun you'll be so kind and join the rest of us for dinner." Maria quickly drew her face into a serious frown and followed him toward the stairs, but by the time they reached the bottom step her shoulders were shaking and she was holding on to the railing to keep from tripping.

"Honestly," Georg muttered.

"I'm sorry," Maria squeaked as she gasped for air. "I'm sorry. I'll stop, I promise."

"Mmm, I'm sure you will," he replied stiffly as he quickly made his way toward the dining room. Maria lingered a bit longer as the children appeared on the stairs and caught the very end of what was said.

"Is Father all right?"

"Your father is more than all right," Maria assured them as she ushered them in the same direction. "But it won't help his mood if we keep him waiting." They filed in quietly and sat down. Maria stopped and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head, tossing him a loving smile over her shoulder as she continued on to take her seat at the opposite end of the table.

Georg relaxed as he watched her settle his youngest daughter. Perhaps I am being a bit oversensitive, he thought. The fact of the matter is that he _was_ older than his wife and there was no point in trying to deny it. The only opinion that mattered was hers and she has never once voiced any complaint. With those thoughts still on his mind, he caught Maria's eye and gave her a quick wink. She smiled widely and nodded, a gesture that always reassured him that he had done the right thing when he fell in love with her.

Georg rubbed his hands together hungrily. "I wonder what delicious meal Cook has made for us this evening."

"I believe the menu this evening is for tafelspitz," Maria replied as she carefully spread her napkin over her lap. She grinned across the table at him as her eyes began to twinkle. "I mentioned how much we enjoyed it the last time and that we were…" she quickly bit her lip to stop a snicker from escaping. Georg stared back with suspicion.

"We were _what_, my dear?"

"Oh, just that we were DYE-ing to have it again." Maria could see his fingers drumming on the table impatiently as she teased. Her hand went to her mouth as her body shook from a suppressed snicker.

"Is that so? Well, yes we did enjoy it very much. I'm sure it will be just as tasty tonight," he commented with feigned amusement, shooting a half-smile around the table to his children who nervously smiled back. They could clearly tell that something was going on between their parents but hadn't the first clue what it was. They looked to Liesl who simply shrugged and reached for her napkin.

Once the blessing had been hastily said by a hungry Kurt, the meal proceeded in relative peace. Maria occasionally glanced toward the other end of the table, offering affectionate smiles as an apology. It was so unlike her ever self-possessed husband to let the blunders of a clueless store clerk disturb him. She was used to dealing with an ego that bordered on arrogant every time they were out together; never in her life had she known a man so aware that he was admired and envied by men and women alike. But to go to such drastic lengths to mend his bruised pride, well… she would see the humor in it even if he didn't.

"I've been invited to a party," Brigitta informed between bites of food. "May I go?" Maria looked up at Georg who was busy taking his sour mood out on his dinner with his knife and fork.

"How nice," Maria finally answered. "Who invited you?"

"My friend Diana."

"Diana? Did you say, 'DYE-ana'?"

Maria heard his fork hit the plate right before she looked up. Georg glared at her, almost daring her to laugh. The look on his face was too much, however. It started with a small laugh, but soon she was overcome. She started to giggle uncontrollably, hiding behind her dinner napkin.

"Maria, please," Georg sighed.

"I-I-I'm sorry," she squeaked between gasps for breath. "It's just… I mean… ahem. I'm sorry." She exhaled slowly as she reached for her glass. She looked around the table as she slowly sipped her water. All seven children watched her with blank faces, which caused her to swallow too fast and choke.

Once she managed to calm herself, the meal resumed in awkward silence. Georg shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the sound of Maria's laughter still ringing in his ears. When he finally dared to look at her, she flashed him another smile. He usually loved her playful nature and could never accuse her of any kind of malice. He never minded a joke at his expense before now, and it was one thing to be look like an old man, it was quite another turn into a grumpy one. He weakly smiled back as he shook his head resignedly.

"This tafelspitz is quite delicious," he said after a few bites. "I might even have a second helping."

"Not me," Maria said, wiping the corner of her mouth and sitting back with heavy sigh. She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers then clutched at her stomach.

"Maria? Are you alright?"

"I'm…," she tried to answer, but had to quickly muffle the words. She closed her eyes tightly as she struggled to maintain her composure. Georg quickly realized her anguish was not a result of pain or illness.

"Go on," he said drolly, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

"No, I'm fine," she said.

"Just… say it," he sighed.

"I was just going to say that I don't think I should have another helping because…"

"Because," Georg impatiently gestured for her to continue. "Come on, out with it."

"Because I need to watch my DYE-et." She whispered the words, but only because she could barely breathe trying to keep control all to no avail. She pushed her chair back and doubled over as she laughed. She held up a hand to offer what little expression of regret she could muster given how little power she had over herself at that moment.

The worst part was that it became contagious. In a matter of seconds, the children were also laughing even though they had no idea why. Georg surveyed the spectacle. Liesl, bless her, was trying to remain composed but it was to no avail. It seemed that Kurt was trying to compete with his mother for volume and duration. Their laughter only beget more laughter and soon the chaos was beyond control. He stood up and slapped his napkin onto the table. The movement caused an abrupt halt to the hilarity.

"If you'll excuse me," he said hotly. "A man shouldn't have to endure such abuse in his own dining room." Maria seemed to be in pain as she burst into another round of laughter.

"DYE-ning room!" Her words were nearly a high pitch scream, causing Georg to wince and roll his eyes as he turned to leave. The gleeful squeals of his children followed him into the grand hall as he stomped away.

He savored the quiet darkness of his study, wavering between embarrassment and amused self-pity. Enough time had passed since dinner so that he could understand the humor of it all. Of course it was ridiculous, as if getting rid of a little bit of gray in his hair would change the facts.

And it wasn't as if he wanted to be younger. He didn't believe in regrets, not when he accomplished so many of his dreams when he was younger. Not when he'd loved and been loved and had seven beautiful and intelligent children to show for it. And most definitely not when he had a future to enjoy with his Maria by his side. His beautiful, _young_ Maria. If he were to be completely honest, he thought she probably had a lot more to regret than he did.

"Are you all right?" Maria asked when she suddenly appeared in his doorway. She crossed the room to a lamp and turned it on. Now he could see her better, the very delight of his thoughts.

"Oh, I will be," he sighed, welcoming her to his lap. He rested his head against her chest as she gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I hurt your feelings," she repented.

"It was worth it to hear you laugh. It's one of my favorite things," he answered kindly. "Even if it is at my expense."

"I won't be laughing if you did anything to your beautiful hair," she chided. "Honestly, darling, I have always found the gray at your temples completely irresistible." She turned slightly to look at his face when she heard him scoff at the compliment. "You don't believe me? Before we were married I could hardly believe that such a distinguished looking man wanted me. It was all I could do not to run my fingers through it every time I looked at you." As if to prove her point, she ran her fingertips over the very source of his disquiet before placing a tender kiss on his temple.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything so drastic," he promised, reaching for her hand and stroking his thumb across her knuckles. "And when people point and jeer about the old man with the bride young enough to be—"

"Be careful."

"… his niece," he hastened to say, earning him a gentle slap on his shoulder. "I'll just grin and bear it."

"Or you can just tell them what I do," she offered with a wicked smirk.

"Oh? And what exactly to you tell them?"

"There may be snow on the rooftop but there is a fire in the furnace."

**Next: K is for Kill** (do you trust me?)


	11. Chapter 11: K is for Kill

_A/N and Disclaimer: Same as A-K, I don't own 'The Sound of Music' or the characters. I don't even want to own this update._

**K is for Kill: A story where on character kills the other**

_She stood across from him, her shoulders squared and her eyes alive with a fierceness that unsettled him. He wasn't even sure he was hearing anything she said over the angry message her eyes were sending. It was something about cats and dogs and whistles and pinecones and thunderstorms… she was shouting with rapid fire words and he barely had time to react to one accusation before she flung a new one at him. _

_ She edged toward him with each ire-filled breath as he backed up toward the edge of the lake. There were puddles everywhere, making the entire surface of the landing slick and precarious. He had a stupid thought that he should stop the argument for a moment and warn her to watch her step._

_ "It's called discipline, Fraulein," he said, finally getting a word in. "I was under the impression that whatever Nonnberg sent me would at least be able to recognize the importance of discipline."_

_ "That's the problem, Captain," She shot back, her arms tight against her sides and her hands balled into fists. "I'm not a 'what', I am a 'who'. Just like the children… your children, who cower whenever they are around you. Not that you are around much." His jaw clenched at the way she mocked him with every single word. _

_ "How dare you," he hissed. He was no longer retreating from her, partly because he had reached the limit of his self-control and partly because his heels were nearly hanging off the edge of the landing over the water. "How dare you tell me about my children! I warn you, Fraulein, not one more word!"_

_ "You're losing them, Captain. One day they will leave you and if you think you're lonely now," she continued on with her lecture. "If you think losing your wife was painful, just you wait until the last one flees from you," She stalked a step closer and closer. "From their cold, bitter, unfeeling… heartless father!" She was near enough that the force of each word felt like a slap across his face. The blood in his ears pulsed loudly. As he glared at her, his vision became darker, almost red._

_ "Love them, Captain," she shouted, half pleading and half condemning. "Love them all."_

_ In that instant, something snapped. His hands, which had been grasping blindly for the gate behind him, came up quickly and shoved her away. His feet came out from under him and he fell to the wet ground flat upon his back. He writhed on the ground, gasping for the air that was knocked out of his lungs. He finally pulled himself up on to his hands and knees and looked up, expecting to see her towering over him with a mocking sneer. Instead, he was eerily alone._

_ "Fraulein?" He couldn't imagine where she had gone so fast. He was ashamed that he had lashed out physically, but she had totally provoked him. He looked toward the house, scanned the ground around him. He couldn't see her anywhere. It was if she vanished into the air. _

_ But when grabbed on to the gate to pull himself to his feet, he saw her. She was sprawled across the steps that led into the lake, almost entirely submerged. She didn't move, even when he flew down the steps to get to her quickly. Impossible, he thought as he reached out to touch her, she never screamed! There wasn't any splash! He felt the coldness of her skin as he brushed away the wet locks of hair plastered to her face. And her eyes that had mere moments ago been lit with holy indignation were dim and dull. Dead._

Georg woke in a cold sweat and breathing heavy. He threw the covers off and jumped out of the bed, pacing before his feet even hit the floor. He knew he was awake but his chest was still tight with panic and fear. The image of the young postulant spread out lifeless in the water was so intense and real that he had to keep telling himself it was just a dream.

He stumbled through the dark room of the guest suite he occupied during his visits to Vienna, slapping at the wall switch for some light. It helped a little to be out of the dark. He got his bearings and talked himself down from the horrible feeling of dread. It was only a dream.

He hardly knew the woman. The few minutes they spent together in introduction were memorable, he could hardly deny. Unrepentantly wandering into rooms that were off limits, interrupting his speech about discipline at every turn. Still, apart from an awkward half hour at dinner and a very unpleasant clash at bedtime, his feelings toward Fraulein Maria were neutral and there was hardly any cause for her to be subject of his nightmares.

He wasn't prone to dreams, not the kind that continue beyond waking. He had nightmares like this, so vivid and so clear, only two other times and for that reason his body began to tremble again. He lowered himself into the nearest chair and hung his head into his hands.

The first time had been during the war. In that dream he was talking to his brother, Werner. The conversation was mundane for the most part with some reminiscing and some talk of the war. He could remember a glad feeling as he hadn't seen or heard from his brother for quite some time. Suddenly, Werner opened his mouth to speak when an explosive flash caused him to vanish before his eyes. Georg searched through the dust and smoke until he found his brother's lifeless body. The sights and sounds of the dream stayed with him long after he woke up sobbing. Three days later he received word that his brother had been killed in battle.

He had always thought the timing was a coincidence until many years later when the same thing happened again. He dreamed of walking through a gathering of people looking at him mournfully, telling him it was time for him to say something. He looked for his wife in the crowd, certain she could help him understand what was happening with her steadying smile, but she was nowhere to be found. All he could see were the children huddled and sad, looking to him for some kind of comfort. Then his eyes found the priest… and her name chiseled on the stone that marked the grave. For days after he couldn't shake the heavy sorrow that the dream had planted deeply in his heart. A few months later the grief was fulfilled when his beloved Agathe passed away from the fever that consumed her so quickly

Georg tried to tell himself that this was different than those other times, that he loved Werner and Agathe. That his subconscious was wrapped tightly around the powerful bond he had with his brother and the deep devotion he felt for his wife. Maria was nothing to him, nothing that would cause him to dream about her in any way. And yet, he couldn't erase the image of her eyes, void in death… how he had seen it in the dream about his brother and when his wife looked at him as the last breath slowly shook out of her body.

He had heard of people with some kind of extrasensory gift but never gave a minute of his thoughts to actually considering that was what he experienced. Those people were cracked and he was certainly not crazy. No, he thought as he began to pace again, those dreams were only coincidences. And this dream was…

He grabbed his robe and left the guest room in search of alcohol.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The few remaining days in Vienna were rough. Georg could not get the images from the dream to leave his mind alone. He slipped into a quiet brood, leaving the burden of conversation to Elsa and Max. Neither seemed to notice nor mind, even when he made the suggestion that the trip to Salzburg be moved up a day. Elsa took it as a good sign that Georg was eager to have her meet his children and that things were finally moving toward an engagement. Max was always agreeable as long as the food and wine were free. As far as they both were concerned, Georg was simply in another one of his moods and if a change of scenery would snap him out of it, they were perfectly willing.

The trip back seemed to help. The open car and pleasant scenery calmed Georg enough to enjoy the company of the baroness and tolerate the droll humor of his friend. By the time the group arrived at the villa, all thought of dreams and premonitions seemed to be forgotten.

His agreeable mood started to wane soon after they walked through the door. Georg took the silence that met them as a good sign that Fraulein Maria was managing things well and had the children engrossed in their studies. He called for them with the whistle expectantly, giving his companions a nervous smile when nothing happened. He tried again and again, each time louder and more frantic than the last. His humiliation was complete when a very flushed Frau Schmidt flew out of nowhere to inform him that the children were, in fact, not in the house but out for a walk with the governess. He ignored the quiet snicker from Elsa and requested the housekeeper bring tea out to the terrace for them, though he was almost sure something a bit stronger might be a better idea.

His patience was close to running out by the third hour when voices could be heard approaching from the direction of the lake. He told himself to remain calm, that while he wasn't exactly pleased with the situation, it wasn't the time to be confrontational, that he would deal with the impudent little governess later. Yet, a sense of foreboding rose steadily in his chest with each step toward the lake. What happened next didn't help.

His children stood up in the boat. And they all fell out. And Elsa laughed. And something inside his brain began to tick.

He heard himself shout commands and blow the stupid whistle. _Tick._ He heard the edge in his voice as he introduced the baroness to his children and the clipped way he dismissed them to change. _Tick._ He heard the fury in the way he ordered Fraulein Maria to stay put. _Tick, tick, tick_.

Everything that happened the moment he returned home, the embarrassment and the provocations, conspired against him and Georg finally broke. All reason abandoned him and his control began to slip away as his dream began to play out before his very eyes. It was if there was a rope wrapping around him, cinching tighter and tighter with each tick, tick, tick in his head, dragging him toward a tragic inevitability.

He wanted her to remain silent even as he demanded answers.

"Have my children by any chance been climbing trees today?" _Tick, tick, tick_...

"Do you mean to tell me my children have been roaming about Salzburg dressed up in nothing but some old drapes?!" _Tick, Tick, Tick_…

Everything inside him told him to make it stop, to do whatever he could to end the conversation before it was too late. Yet the argument – and the ticking – barreled on, gaining momentum like a runaway freight train, faster and louder. There was no way to stop it, no way to keep the words from flying recklessly out of his mouth

"I said I don't want to hear any more from you about my children!" _Tick, tick, tick_…

Maria's eyes sparked and narrowed as she squared herself toward him. It was just like his dream, the way her face flushed in agitation right before she turned it all back on him.

"I know you don't, but you've got to!" _Tick, tick, tick_…

He was too angry to do anything but mutter his defense at each accusation… that he doesn't know his children… _tick! _That he doesn't listen to them… _tick!_ That he brushes them aside… _tick!_

The lake closed in on one side as she closed in on the other, each step making the beat pulse feverishly louder and faster… _tickticktickticktick!_

"Oh, please, Captain, love them, love them all!"

He closed his eyes and waited for it all to explode, for that burst of red and unescapable moment of violence.

And he waited.

But what he heard instead so stunned him that he nearly missed the slow recession of the pulsations beating away in his head. Somewhere there was music, angelic voices singing a beautiful and almost haunting refrain. It was coming from inside the house.

"What is that?" _Tick, tick, tick_…

"It's singing."

"I know it's singing," he said impatiently. "_Who_ is singing?" _Tick, tick, tick_…

"The children," Maria replied with a sigh.

"The children…" _Tick… tick… tick_…

He turned from her and moved toward the music. The ominous beat he heard in his head was slowly drowned out by the heavy pounding of his heart and then by the wonderful melody of his children's voices as he drew closer to the drawing room. He was beyond captivated by the performance. The song flowed from his own tongue even as it lured him closer to the children. Music had been a cheerful constant at one time. It had once filled his home as much as the love he shared with his late wife and the love they lavished on the beautiful children standing before him. For too long he refused the music and the love that had always sustained him. He had been such a fool.

_Tick_

_._

_._

_._

_Tick_

_._

_._

_._

_Tick_

.

.

.

Minutes later, while still reveling in the gracious forgiveness and devotion of the seven children, Georg caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Fraulein Maria! This was all her doing. Suddenly the angry words they exchanged came back to him and he hurried after her, stopping her as she started to flee up the stairs.

"Fraulein," he called after her. "I… behaved badly. I apologize." _Tick_…

"I'm far too outspoken," she countered, sadly. "It's one of my worst faults."

"You were right," he confessed, dismissing her words. "I don't know my children." … _tick_

"There's still time, Captain. They want so much to be close to you."

"And you brought music back into the house. I'd forgotten."

Georg looked up at her at that moment and beheld her eyes once again, only they were not glowing with bitter anger, but alive and soft and bright, brighter than he had ever thought a pair of eyes could be.

_Tick_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Tick_

_._

_._

_._

_._

"Fraulein… I want you to stay," he pleaded, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the noise stopped. He paused, waiting to be sure. There was nothing but silence. "I ask you to stay." The ridiculous dream, that nightmare of nights ago, was no longer a threat. He felt like a fool for believing it ever was.

"If I could be of any help," Maria beamed.

"You have already," he answered into the calm and quiet of the great hall. "More than you know."

**Next: L is for Literature**


	12. Chapter 12: L is for Literature

_A/N 1: I don't know what it is about these two, but they just keep flirting with that T rating. A bit of fluffy fluff. Lately the whole writing thing has been slow, and the next prompt is going to be hard enough, so please be patient and stick with me. I really need to put my HatsOff hat on (ha! I kill me…) so there will be an update for that story before we all grow old and die. So, I'll do my best to post soon but I suspect it won't be as soon as I like._

**L is for Literature: a story involving a book one of the characters is reading**

"What's that?"

Georg looked up from his side of the bed to the vision of his lovely wife shedding her dressing gown before climbing under the covers on her side. Her head was tipped to the side as she squinted at the item resting in his hands.

"This? I believe it's a book," he said with a hint of teasing.

"I can see that it's a book," Maria grumbled as she rolled her eyes. She pulled back the bedcovers and settled herself beside him. "I mean, what are you reading? It's not nearly big enough to be one of your usual boring military volumes."

"Quite. No, this is a murder mystery. Contrary to belief, I like to read for amusement as well as enlightenment." He flipped the book closed and showed her the title. Maria glanced and wrinkled her nose.

"Murder? Sounds dreadful."

"Murder is dreadful," he agreed. "But the culprit is always caught in these novels and justice is served. It is most satisfying." He opened the book and scanned the page for his place. "Especially this one." Maria shot him a puzzled look.

"You've already read it?"

"A while ago," Georg mumbled as he quickly turned a page and continued to read. Maria shook her head, unable to understand the original appeal of such a novel, never mind interest in a second reading.

"If you already know who the murderer is, why bother?" She leaned against him and tried to read the page over his shoulder.

"Because I didn't know who did it the first time," he explained as if it were obvious. "I want to see if the clues were really there. The solution was almost too incredible. I was sure the author cheated."

"And?"

"And," he answered blithely. "I'm finding it more fascinating the second time." Georg turned to laugh at the skeptical look on Maria's face.

"You really couldn't figure it out? Isn't it always the least obvious suspect?"

"Sometimes. And sometimes it is the most obvious suspect but for less obvious reasons. And sometimes…"

"Yes?"

"As if I am going to give it away," Georg scoffed. "You'll have to read it yourself."

"I bet I could figure it out," Maria said with a dramatic yawn. "Murder mysteries are so predictable."

"And I bet you would never figure it out," he replied looking at her with a mischievous light in his eyes. "Care to see which of us is right?" Maria narrowed her eyes and then put her hand out to him.

"Sure," she said calmly. "I'll give it a try. In fact, I think we should make it interesting and I even know what I want the prize to be."

"I can't wait to hear it," he muttered, closing the book with a snap and dropping it into her lap.

"If I guess the murderer before I finish the book, you have to sing at our next dinner party."

Georg's mouth dropped open to protest, but then he shrugged and nodded. "Very well. I'll even let you pick the song." He turned slightly and fluffed his pillow before putting his head down and closing his eyes. Maria stared. It was too easy.

"Are you going to sleep?" She asked in disbelief. "You haven't named your prize, you know."

"Oh, don't worry. I will," he mumbled sleepily. "Don't stay up too late reading, darling. Good night."

"Reading? I was thinking that, um… well, I mean… that is, if you weren't too tired…" Maria's fingers played with the binding of the book as she ducked her head. She was almost pouting. Georg opened one eye and smiled at her. She was too adorable. He sat up and leaned forward with a lingering kiss.

"The Ebberfelds are coming for dinner on Friday, Maria," he said as he sank back deeper into the covers. "That gives you only a few days to read. It would be quite unfair of me to distract you."

"Oh. Of course."

"Wouldn't want to be accused of cheating."

"No, I guess not," Maria said with a hint of dejection. "I guess I'll start reading, then. Goodnight."

"Hmmm. Good night."

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

Georg woke in the middle of the night to find Maria curled on her side with her finger lodged in the pages of the book, the lamp still burning bright on her nightstand. He carefully, removed the novel from her, reached across her carefully and set it down before turning off the light. He felt her jolt awake beneath him as he did.

"Wha..?"

"Shh… go back to sleep." Georg curled his body around her and closed his eyes. He felt her snuggled closer as she relaxed again. After a few minutes, she turned in his arms.

"The stepson," she stated evenly. "He did it."

"Did he?" Georg asked without opening his eyes.

"Didn't he?"

"Well, I'm not going to tell you." He rolled onto his back pulling Maria with him. She let out an exasperated sigh before settling into his side and drifting back to sleep.

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

The next afternoon Georg found Maria by herself huddled in the nursery. She was fully engrossed in the book that balanced on her knees as she mindlessly nibbled on an apple core. He stood silently and admired the sight of her as the late day sun streamed through the windows and wrapped itself lightly around her. He almost hated to disturb her.

"Are you finished?" he asked as he stepped further into the room toward her.

"Huh? Oh, no. I still have a few more chapters, but…"

"I meant the apple," he laughed, reaching for it. She gave it up, licking her fingers and unconsciously wiping them on the edge of her skirt. Georg shook his head as he tossed the core into a nearby bin. She would never let the children get away with such uncouth behavior.

"I think," Maria said as she stood up to meet him. "There are only two motives for murder in these stories. Love or money."

"That's a very astute observation," Georg agreed. "What is the motive in this particular mystery?"

"Well, money, I think. The poor victim was very rich. And there was the matter of blackmail." Maria searched him for any kind of confirmation. "Clearly money is a motive." Georg nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes," he said with a mock gravity. "I certainly see why you would come to that conclusion. It's very logical."

Maria continued to stare, somewhat frustrated. "And I still say that the stepson is behind it. He would inherit everything." Her husband revealed nothing. Finally he smiled at her and grabbed the book out of her hand.

"Enough reading for now," he said, tossing it on a table and grabbing her hand. "I want to go for a walk. Come with me." Maria sighed but followed him. As they strolled across the grounds enjoying the mild afternoon air, Maria continued her musings.

"Although, the sister in law is awfully suspicious," she said randomly. She watched Georg's reaction for any sign that she on the right path, but he was unreadable.

"How so?"

"She just seems awfully concerned about the will," Maria pondered. "And I think she was in love with the victim. She had a jealous streak."

"Jealous women can be murderous," he commented evenly. "I've known my fair share in my day, I can tell you. In fact, I knew this one woman who…"

"_Not_ interested," Maria cut him off with a withering glare. "Anyway, the more I think about it I'm convinced she did it. If she loved him, she must not have been happy to know he wanted to marry that other woman. In fact, she could have been the one blackmailing her. Love and money. It all adds up."

"So what song will I be singing on Friday?" Georg asked.

"You mean, I guessed?" Maria clapped her hands together, a look of excitement blooming across her face. Her husband laughed.

"No," he replied with a snicker. "Not even close." He made a sound of sympathy at his crestfallen wife, pulling her to his side and consoling her. "Hang in there, Maria. Only a few more chapters and all will be made clear." Maria sighed wearily.

"I still don't know what is at stake," she said. "You probably plan to make me sing some dreaded aria, probably Wagner. I'll be hoarse for days." Georg gave a low chuckle as he shook his head.

"Don't worry, I love your voice too much to do that to you," he answered, his own voice deep and beguiling. "And _not_ only when you're singing. I like your voice when you say my name… over and over and, well, let's just say I can think of better ways to make you lose your voice." Maria stared at him blankly and then flushed at the implication.

"Incorrigible!"

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

The next morning, Georg watched as Maria finished the novel, her eyes growing wider with each turn of the final pages. Occasionally sounds of surprise and confusion could be heard from where she sat perched on the edge of her chair. Finally she closed the book and set it gently on the breakfast table next to her cold cup of tea.

"I did not see that coming," she whispered. Her face tightened into a frown and she quickly grabbed the book again and started frantically turning the pages. "Wait. That's can't be right. Are you sure…"

"Yes, Maria," Georg said, totally amused. "But don't feel bad. I didn't guess it either. It's a clever twist. Tell me, did you like it?"

"I have to admit, it was fun to get lost in it. It feels wrong to say that about a grisly murder, but it was." Maria narrowed her eyes at the smug look on Georg's face. "And yes, you win. Name your prize." He laughed and shook his head.

"I think it should remain a mystery," he explained, mischievous stars flashing in his eyes. "In keeping with the spirit of our wager."

"Can't you give me a few clues?" Maria asked coyly as she leaned toward him.

"Of course," he said, mirroring her movement to close the gap between them. "You and me." He kissed her lightly once. "In the bedroom." He kissed her twice. "With the…" He kissed her a third time.

"With the what?!" Maria asked breathlessly.

"With the lights on."

_A/N 2: Maria read __The Murder of Roger Ackroyd__ by Agatha Christie. If you've read it, please keep your review spoiler-free. You are going to leave a review, right? Right?! *bats eyelashes* Pretty please? _

_Disclaimer: Same as A-K I own nothing. Thanks for all the reviews, faves, follows. You guys are wonderful._

**Next: M is for Mourn**


	13. Chapter 13: M is for Mourn

_A/N: This is the first time I have written about life in America. It was interesting to create my own head canon for it; I like to think that while the other children are scattered around the country, Liesl is married and living just up the road a ways. Another perk was coming up with American names. In this story, I just used the names of the couple that lived next door when I was growing up. They had a blind sheepdog named Jill and a grandson named Quinn that was always visiting them. More information than you need, I know._

_I do not own 'The Sound of Music' or the characters. I want to thank everyone who has left a review with a special shout out to guest reviewers who I can't thank privately. You're awesome._

**M is for Mourn: one character mourns the other character's death**

I. Denial

She opened the stereo cabinet in whatever light the dreary morning offered, slid the record from the sleeve and gently dropped it onto the turntable. Soon Tchaikovsky crushed through the silence of the house and she turned the volume knob until the sound of the piano music bounced off the walls. She liked to play the music loud, she once told him, because of the way it made her sturdy farmhouse sound like the great concert halls of Vienna. She moved to the center of the room and closed her eyes and began to hum and then giggle.

"I know, I know," she said aloud as if he was there, as if he had just told her for the millionth time he could barely hear himself think. She returned to the cabinet and turned the knob the other way and the music gradually became muffled by the emptiness around her.

There wasn't much to do, having already visited the small barn and tended the few animals they kept. She had tidied the sitting room many times over but it gave her peace to do it, so she began the chore of it once again, straightening picture frames on the mantle and fluffing pillows on the furniture. She stopped when she came to the overstuffed armchair where he used to spend his evenings with his pipe and books. She discovered a volume of maritime history that had somehow slipped down into the cushions, amazed that she hadn't found it in her previous housecleaning.

"You and your history," she mumbled as she dropped into his chair, inspecting the binding and wiping imaginary dust from the cover. "You should have written your own book, you know. But then I would have had to read it and I can't think of anything more boring." She stood to return it to it's proper place on the shelf but then mindlessly slid it onto the table next to the chair, lifting his reading glasses and setting them gently on top with a heavy sigh.

She started when she heard a door open and a familiar voice call out to her. "Mother?"

"In here, Liesl," she hollered back, her voice catching. She listened as her daughter found her, turning to welcome her with a smile. "What a nice surprise."

"I've come to invite you to lunch."

She shook her head and gave a weary laugh. "You've come to check on me," she answered back quickly, rolling her eyes. The younger woman shrugged and grinned, neither admitting or denying the accusation. "Very well, I'll need my coat."

"Let me," Liesl offered, disappearing momentarily. When she returned, she helped her mother bundle up, handing over a blue scarf to put on by herself. "You were right, the blue one suits you better." They had been together when she purchased it the previous week. Her daughter had suggested a green one, but she only considered the blue. _Your father likes me to wear blue_, she had said at the time causing Liesl to give her a very sad look.

"Would it be possible to stop at the grocer later?" she asked as they made their way out the door. "I need to pick up a roast."

"A roast?" Liesl laughed. "Are you having company tomorrow?"

"No," she replied as if an explanation was unnecessary. "It's Sunday. I always make a roast on Sunday. We like to make sandwiches for lunch on Monday with the leftovers." She turned when she sensed Liesl had stopped, but then instantly looked away. She could see the concern in the girl's eyes but she didn't know what to say. "Never mind. I'm sure I can make do with something else."

II. Anger

"Damn!" she muttered as she slammed the receiver down. She hurriedly donned her coat and boots and rushed out the door into the cold Vermont air.

She knew something like this would happened, she knew it. She walked as fast as she could until she was practically running up the road toward the next farm. She saw her neighbor making his way slowly toward her pulling her cow along side him. She tucked her coat tighter around her as she reached him and came to a stop.

"Oh, Ernie! I'm terribly sorry about this," she apologized between gasps for air. "I hope Jill didn't do too much damage."

"You don't have to worry," the kind farmer replied. "She got in Norma's garden but only just. And it's all been picked by now."

"Well, that's a relief, anyway," she sighed, reaching for the rope that he had used to tether the cow. She noticed his hand as he passed it to her, chapped and cracked, probably from not wearing gloves in the bitter cold when he should. She used to get on Georg about gloves for the very same reason. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."

"No bother, Maria," he answered. "I guess you have a post or two down somewhere." She felt the anger flicker back to life. She sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sure we, er.. I do."

"Quinn and I will come and fix it for you this afternoon sometime."

"Oh, no, I couldn't-"

"The two of us will get it done in no time. He's coming over after school to help me out so it's no bother, really." She felt the the bitter sting of tears threatening in the back of her eyes, but it was only partially from gratitude. She had so many childhood memories of refusing to be the object of everyone's pity, and now that is all she would be.

"If you're sure, I'd be grateful," she managed, pretending it was the wind in her face making her eyes watery. The older man tipped his worn cap and turned to go home. She stared the cow in the eye and growled. "Don't look at me that way, you naughty girl."

As soon as the cow was secure in the barn, she hurried inside and out of the cold. She put the kettle on for some tea, slamming it to the stove a bit harder than she should. In a fit of energy, she went from pantry to store cupboard with a small basket, filling it with a fresh loaf of kaisersemmel, a few jars of preserves and a canister of hand cream and set it by the door for Ernie. For now it was the best she could do to thank her dear neighbors of nearly 20 years.

She reached for a teacup but her hands were trembling too much for her to dare to try carrying it too far. She abandoned the task, turned off the kettle and stomped to the sitting room and threw herself onto a sofa, fighting the sob that was lodged in her chest. She was tired of crying over ever little thing.

"This is your fault, you know," she said to the empty armchair across the room. "You promised me that you were going to replace that fence post and you never did. I asked...," she paused to think. "Seven times. No, eight times if you include when I asked you to pay someone to do it. But no! Why pay someone to do what you can do? Isn't that what you said? Well, you can't do it now, can you?"

She didn't like the thickness in her voice, the angry lump that was growing in her throat as she sat there thinking about all the little broken promises. She bitterly resented the tears that blurred her vision as she stared at the chair... his chair... where he should be but wasn't.

"You promised," she sputtered. "And you promised to replace the light over the kitchen sink. The stupid thing blinks like it's about to explode, every damn day. And you promised me." She closed her eyes, squeezing out her tears, her jaw clenched in hot anger. "You promised we would go visit Friedrich and Lucy and the baby next summer! You promised that we would go back to Paris and finish our honeymoon someday!" She stood and began to pace, flexing her hands in agitation. It didn't seem right to feel this way, but she couldn't help it.

"YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD NEVER LEAVE ME!" she screamed at the chair, her pulse pounding in her temples as she sobbed. "YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD LOVE ME FOREVER!" She collapsed on the chair and wept until she couldn't anymore. Minutes later, exhausted, she fell asleep.

III. Bargaining

She entered the quiet church for the first time since the funeral months ago. She offered weary smiles at her neighbors and friends who greeted her, who voiced their pleasure at seeing her out and about. They repeated their condolences, inquired about her well-being. How easy it was for them to be on the other side of this grief, knowing what they were expected to say even if it was trite and hollow. She wouldn't begrudge them the simplicity of it as she was sure they all had their own share of burdens to bear.

Once the service began, she relaxed a bit, thankful for the familiarity. The years had conditioned her to stand and kneel and to close her eyes and bow her head. She crossed herself without even thinking. All of it was such a part of who she was, or had been at one time. She had faithfully ushered her family to mass and taught them the catechisms and sacred songs, made sure their talents were used to praise, made sure all glory was given to the One who gives all good gifts.

But had she faltered in her devotion to God? The Reverend Mother said that loving a man didn't mean she loved God less, but the Abbess didn't know how much she _had_ loved him... she had loved him with her whole heart. He had become an idol that she worshiped with her body and soul.

If only she had prayed more, worried about the children and their home less. Maybe if she hadn't loved him so much, God wouldn't have had to remove the object of her unfaithfulness to him so soon.

Maybe, if she prayed and confessed, God would make it stop hurting so much to miss him.

IV. Depression

She opened her eyes and tried to determine what time it was. Not that it mattered, really, since she didn't even know what day it was. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes but didn't bother to sit up. She found she didn't have the energy to move and yet her legs were restless and her back was sore from being curled into a tight ball of sadness.

She could hear something happening in her house, the rattling of dishes and the sloshing of water. Liesl. She couldn't make herself be annoyed or grateful. Instead she just let the sounds lull her away from all her thoughts, until her mind was empty enough to try drifting back into a fitful sleep.

"Mother?"

She moaned as Liesl drew back the curtains. The light shattered what little comfort she had in her darkened bedroom. "Please... keep them closed."

"It's nearly noon," Liesl said without any pity but loads of concern. "Won't you please at least get up? I could strip the bed and put on fresh-"

"You don't have to bother," she interrupted. "You've done enough. Thank you for doing the dishes. I know I let the sink fill up."

"Dishes," the younger woman shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Cups and saucers, mostly. Do you even feed yourself?" She didn't bother to answer. "It was no trouble. I'm glad to do whatever you need me to do."

"Except leave me alone."

"As soon as I know you'll be ok. I'll take care of the bed and whatever other laundry. I'll fix something to eat and then I'll leave you as alone as you like."

"Liesl, please..."

"Mrs. Campbell left a bag of wool." Liesl continued. "She thought you might like something to do, and the shawl project could always use an extra knitter." There was a loud groan and the dull thud of her head hitting the pillow.

A minute or two later, she felt the sinking of the mattress beside her as Liesl crawled to the space next to her. How she missed those nights when he came to bed after her, the way the mattress would dip and shake as he quietly sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and undress. She even missed the smells of the barn he brought to bed with him. She missed the cold of his cheeks as he nuzzled the back of her neck to say goodnight.

"Oh, Mother," Liesl sad softly, reaching to wipe the tears that had started to fall again.

"I miss him," she said quietly. "So much." Liesl hummed her acknowledgment, rubbing her mother's back lightly in comfort. "I feel so lost without him. It's like I don't know who I am anymore."

"You are a mother. And a grandmother. You are loved by so many friends," Liesl offered, but she shook her head.

"You don't understand..."

"Don't I?" Liesl smiled sympathetically. "I remember when Father told us that he was going to marry you, I was sure you were only doing it for us because we needed a mother. But then one day I overheard the way he said your name... it sounded so warm. And then you answered and called him 'darling' and it was all so... intimate. Just two words and I knew that you loved each other madly."

"The pieces of my life fell into place when your father told me he loved me," Maria whispered, hot tears falling to the pillow beneath her head. "I finally found the life I was born to live. I knew who I was meant to be, what I was meant to do. And now..." She closed her eyes and released a slow breath. "Now I feel useless."

"But you're not useless, not at all!"

"Liesl, please," Maria begged, pulling away from her touch and rolling onto her other side. "Please go home. I just want to be left alone."

V. Acceptance

"Friedrich, you and Lucy take my bedroom. It's bigger and we can fit the crib in there." She happily welcomed her eldest son and his family, cooing over the baby in her arms as they entered the house.

"Oh no! We don't want to make you give up your bed," Lucy said, casting a worried look at her husband.

"Don't be silly," she answered as she gently touched her cheek to the top of the baby's head. "You'll be more comfortable there. I can stay in one of the girls' old rooms."

"But Mother, it's your bed and we know... that is, we don't want to take away...," Friedrich fumbled his words and she had to smile at what he was trying to delicately say.

"Darling Friedrich," she laughed as she looked up at him. "The bed is for two, not one. It's fine."

The bed and pillows had been cleaned and aired many times since her husband passed away, all trace of his scent and essence long gone. She didn't mind giving up the bed; she learned that the memories were imprinted more firmly in her heart than where he used to sleep by her side.

"I see that you packed away a lot of Father's things," her son mentioned cautiously a few days later. "That must have been difficult for you. I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you." She smiled as she shook her head.

"Liesl helped me sort it all out," she explained. "We were able to give a lot of his clothes away, but I still have his books. You're welcome to take a look and take what you like."

"Really? You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. I'd love for you to take whatever you want. In fact," she said with a snap of her fingers as she suddenly remembered something. "I have something else for you, too." She sprinted to the hutch in the dining room and pulled a small wooden box from a drawer and carried it back ceremoniously to Friedrich. "I saved these for you. As the oldest son, I think you should have them."

He opened the box to find all his father's medals, including the Knight's Cross. He touched them reverently and then closed the lid, pushing it back into his mother's hands.

"I couldn't take these," he said quietly. "You need them."

"Why do I need them?" she asked, quite puzzled.

"Well, because they were his! I know how much you loved him, Mother. And I know you miss him."

"So do you," she reasoned. "And it's right that you have them, not me. Friedrich, your father was more than his books and his medals. In fact, until recently I hadn't set eyes on them since our wedding! No, there are traces of him everywhere I look. I don't need things locked in a drawer when I have memories of him locked in my heart."

"Are you sure?" He opened the box once again and proudly lifted one up for closer inspection.

"Yes," she said softly. "I'm glad you will have them."

She was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired. The kind that comes with cooking and cleaning for a house full of family, of endless strolls around the farm with a new grand-baby. It was the kind of tired that came from laughing and singing and telling stories to eager young faces that remind her of her own children. And their father. It had been wonderful having Friedrich and his family come and visit.

But when they left, the house was quiet once again.

That night she stared at her reflection as she stood over the bathroom sink cleaning her teeth. She pondered how well her children were doing, how happy they were. She didn't think she could dream a better life for any of them.

"I only wish you could've been here, darling," she sighed aloud. "You'd be so proud." She grabbed the hand towel to wipe her mouth when she froze; a strong whiff of his cologne hit her nostrils. She lifted the towel to her face and inhaled again, but the scent was gone as if she had only imagined it. She smiled, hung it back up and turned off the light.

The house was quiet but she didn't feel so alone.

"Yes, I'm proud of them, too."

**Next: N is for Nostalgia**


	14. Chapter 14: N is for Nostalgia

_A/N: Just a short (very short) bit of fluff to shake off the heaviness of the last one. I was overwhelmed by the kind response by so many to the M story and want to send a big hug to Kate for her touching review. Sorry I can't tell you privately, but it meant a lot. _

_And we're back in Paris, which I have to confess is starting to be my favorite place to be. I don't own, not mine, blah blah blah..._

**N is for Nostalgia: one character shares a memory with the other**

A week and a half into their honeymoon, Georg and Maria discovered that they had a mutual dislike for shopping. She preferred being outside, walking around the beautiful city experiencing the culture in ways one never could by reading a book. For him, it was a tedious and boring chore and it expended energy that, if he had to be cooped up indoors, could be spent in much more pleasant ways.

Still, they could hardly return home without presents and souvenirs so they stopped at windows during their strolls to and from the hotel, taking note of which shops might be worth another visit during business hours. Georg noticed that Maria was twice as likely to stop at the windows that displayed treasures for children and barely spared a glance at those displaying ladies finery. It was something that frustrated him and endeared her to him at the same time.

"How can I spoil you when you won't even slow down when we pass the jeweler's, Maria?" Georg teased as they leisurely made their way back to the hotel after a late dinner.

"You want me to pick out my own presents?" she laughed, tugging him away from a large store front. "Where is the romance in that? Besides, you spoil me plenty." It wasn't long before she did stop. Maria pointed to a doll dressed in pink satin and lacy petticoats, her blonde curls gathered in ribbons.

"Look! Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yes, very lovely," her husband agreed. "I think it would make Gretl very happy." Maria nodded, but never took her eyes away from the doll. He observed her reflection in the glass, her mouth turned in a soft smile, her eyes distant but not lost. Wherever her mind was taking her right then, Georg thought, it seemed to be somewhere pleasant. Finally, she sighed and turned to continue their walk. They only made it a few feet when she started to speak.

"I had a doll when I was a little girl," she recalled fondly. "She wasn't as fine as the one we just saw. In fact, she was quite plain." She laughed softly at the memory. "I made her clothes from old rags. And a very wicked three year old me got a hold of my mother's scissors..." Her eyes shadowed as she mentioned her mother, but then she shook her head and smiled. "I gave her the most unfortunate haircut. She was a pitiful thing, but she was mine and I loved her." Georg waited for her to go on, but Maria simply wrapped her arm tighter around his and rested her head against his shoulder as they strolled along.

"What is it?" he asked when it was clear she wasn't going to say anything else.

"What? Oh, I just... thinking about my doll made me think about my mother," she explained. "I only have a few clear memories of her."

"Will you tell me about her?" He wasn't sure the request would be welcome. She had learned a fair share about his past during their honeymoon, peppering him with questions about the navy, Agathe, the children... everything and anything about his life was a topic of interest to her. It was vastly disproportionate to what she volunteered about herself. Before he could dismiss the question, however, she gave him a loving smile and nodded.

_ "Mama, are you very angry?" Four year old Maria had been found in the neighbor's barn after a couple hours of frantic searching. She wanted to play with the new kittens and lost track of the time and was stricken by the look on her mother's face when she finally came home. It had been decided that she should spend the rest of the day in the kitchen where a her mother could keep a weary eye on her._

_ "I'm not angry. I'm not pleased, but I'm not angry," Augusta said from her place at the kitchen table, her hands working some dough in a steady rhythm. "I was so worried, Maria. Papa is too busy to look for you when you keep running away."_

_ "Yes, Mama," she answered contritely. "If I promise to be good, will you still love me?" Her mother gave a short laugh._

_ "Oh, my darling, I still love you even when you're naughty." _

_ Reassured by the answer, Maria returned to her paper and pencils while her mother formed the dough into a ball and slipped into a large bowl before covering it with a piece of cloth. It wasn't long before singing accompanied their tasks. _

_ "I love to hear you sing," her mother told her. "God has given you a very special talent."_

_ "What does 'talent' mean?"_

_ "It means you can do something very well," she answered, smiling into her daughter's upturned face. "Maybe better than anyone." Maria lifted her paper into the air._

_ "I can write my name," Maria said proudly, and her mother paused her work just long enough to be properly impressed._

_ "Mama? Do you love me because I can sing pretty and can write my name?"_

_ Her mother stopped suddenly and studied her young daughter for a moment. She wiped her hands on her apron, scooped the girl in her arms and held her tight. "Maria, I don't love you because you're a good girl or because you are talented. I love you because you are mine. My very own. I love you because you belong to me."_

When she was finished with her story, Maria shrugged and gave him a sad smile. "And then... I didn't belong to anyone for a very long time."

"You belong to me," Georg offered, pulling her hand to his lips.

"We belong to each other," she corrected, her heart feeling full.

"Yes," he agreed. "And it makes me so happy."

"Me, too. Very happy." Maria put her head back on his shoulder and they resumed their walk back to the hotel.

**Next: O is for Obvious **


	15. Chapter 15: O is for Obvious

_A/N: I don't own The Sound of Music or these characters. Please leave me a review. Thanks._

**O is for Obvious: one character drops hints to the other about his/her feelings or desires.**

Three. Three long, deep, heavy sighs. Georg counted them.

"Maria, dear, is there something the matter?" He reached across the seat of the automobile and took her hand.

"What? Oh, no, nothing's wrong," she answered. She was a bit distracted but not enough to notice the warm way her hand fit into his. She thought that they really did fit together in so many ways. He was the other half of her, knowing her thoughts and feelings before she could give voice to them. Just like now.

"You're a hopeless liar," he teased, taking his eyes off the road long enough to flash her one of his most dashing smiles.

"I think I'm just a little tired, but I'll be all right," she paused and heaved another deep sigh. "Georg, do you realize this is the third evening out this week?"

"Yes, but tonight we are just having dinner with a handful of people and you've already met all of them," he reasoned. "You have no reason to be nervous. You charm everyone at these things. You've handled it all quite valiantly."

Maria hummed her acknowledgment at the encouragement but she wasn't sure that was the point. She had to admit that she wasn't nearly as petrified of these sorts of things, not like she was the first few parties when she clung to his arm and begged him not to leave her side. Eventually she realized Georg was selective about the invitations and only accepted ones from the friends he trusted to treat her well.

She offered him a smile. "I like your friends, darling. I'm proud to go anywhere with you, you know that." He smiled back, tugged her hand so she would budge closer. She relaxed next to him as they traveled on in silence. No, she thought as she pondered the matter, that wasn't the problem at all.

The problem was that Georg had spoiled her with attention throughout their short engagement and even shorter honeymoon. She knew things would change. Yet in all the ways she imagined how different life would be after they married, she always pictured them like any ordinary couple; alone at the end of the day with their arms around each other, sharing hushed conversations and passionate kisses. Instead she was sharing him into the late night hours with names and faces that were starting to blur together.

"I miss Paris," she said aloud after several minutes had passed.

"I thought you were glad to be home," he replied, both puzzled and amused by what seemed like a random statement. "You kept saying how much you missed the children."

"I did. I just mean...," she shook her head. "I don't know what I mean."

She felt ungrateful to complain about their wonderful life. Georg was a good husband. The women at these parties congratulated her for marrying a man who was handsome and noble, who had means to provide a good life, a man whose honor made him devoted and faithful. But for Maria it was more than that. He was a good husband because he loved her for what she was and never once suggested she needed to be anything else. She loved him the only way she knew how, with her whole wild and crazy heart, and he accepted it as the greatest gift in the world. If those woman only knew how madly in love she was with her husband.

"Are there any plans tomorrow?" Maria stared at the road ahead as she tried to sound casual.

"Plans?"

"I mean, will you be busy tomorrow? I'm just thinking that, you know, maybe it isn't a good idea to stay out too late. If, um... you have plans." Maria finally turned to look at him. His brow was drawn in concentration as he tried to remember.

"No," he said after a few seconds. "Not that I can think of."

"Oh," she replied. "That's good." He nodded and smiled. She offered a weak smile in return.

Just tell him, she nagged herself. Tell him that you miss him, that you need him and want to be alone with him. There is no need to play silly games. And while he may be able to read her thoughts most of the time, there were certainly some moments when subtlety only caused frustration.

She felt her heart twinge as memories of that night played in her mind. She recalled how her hands trembled and her knees knocked together nervously as the children sang their goodnight song to the party guests. She was sure everyone, even little Gretl, could see how affected she was by what had happened only ten minutes before out on the patio. She was so sure they could hear her heart still pounding against her chest.

She tried to get away but Max was too quick. She could barely stand to look at the Captain, but she did in the hope that he would see her desperation. Twice she protested, but in the end he shrugged it all off, completely oblivious.

She took a deep breath.

"Darling, would it be all right if-." It was too late. As they pulled up to the restaurant, a valet opened the door and offered her a hand out of the car. She took it and waited for Georg to come around to her. She took his arm as they headed in and she tried again. "Would you mind terribly if we-."

"Captain!" Maria's head snapped toward the voice calling to them from somewhere behind them. Baron von Kuffner and his wife beamed as they approached. Maria felt her husband release her arm only to have it taken up by the baroness.

"Delightful to see you again, Maria," the woman stated sincerely. Maria nodded politely as she turned back to be sure Georg was not far behind. "Oh, let's leave the men to their boring conversation. I want to hear about Paris..." Maria caught his eye briefly, enough for him to wink at her before turning toward his friend. She sighed.

"Oh, Paris was lovely, of course," Maria said sweetly. "Though it does seem like it was a lifetime ago."

"I suppose the honeymoon is really over when you have to come home to all those darling children!" The woman laughed and dragged her toward the rest of their party. Maria managed to laugh along, despite the lump rising in her chest.

Dinner was a pleasant enough affair. Maria loved seeing Georg with his friends in smaller, intimate settings. It was a chance to see the man they knew and admired; only slightly more relaxed but much more humorous. The conversation kept the evening moving and before she knew it, a few of the others were bidding her a good night. She eagerly moved to her husband's side with a hopeful smile.

"Captain, a few of us are thinking of moving the party somewhere else for a nightcap or maybe some dancing," Kuffner said, before Maria could pull Georg toward the door. "You and your lovely wife should join us."

"Oh, darling...," Maria interjected as she looked at Georg pleadingly.

Georg smiled and nodded at her. Instantly she felt her heart drop. It was Max and the party all over.

"That's very kind of you to include us," Georg told his friend. "But I think I will just take my lovely wife home. Maybe some other time." Before she knew it, they were in the car and speeding toward Aigen.

"Thank you, darling," Maria sighed happily as she slip close to his side and rested her head on his shoulder. "I was so afraid you were going to accept Baron von Kuffner's invitation to join them."

Georg laughed, lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You must think I'm very cruel, Maria."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Maria protested, which only caused him to laugh harder.

"Of course you don't," he said as he pulled her even closer. "But just so you know, I can't wait to be alone with you, too."

**Next: P is for Promise**


	16. Chapter 16: P is for Promise

_A/N: Thanks for reading. I still don't own The Sound of Music or these characters. When and if I ever do, I promise to share. But only if you leave a review. _

**P is for Promise: a story about one character making a promise to the other.**

"No. Out of the question."

Maria sighed as she watched her husband pace around the gazebo, amazed that the wonderful mood could go sour all because of a single request.

"Oh, but Georg," she said, her voice still light and pleasant. She refused to let his stubborn ego wipe the smile off her face. "Why not? Wouldn't it make you proud?" He shook his head, despite puffing out his chest a little.

"I would be proud anyway, as I always am where my children are concerned," he insisted. "_This _wouldn't make it more so."

"But it couldn't possibly make it less so! I just don't understand why you are so against it. Give me one good reason," Maria pushed. She stood up and made her way to him, brushing her hand soothingly up and down his arm. She wanted him to look at her. She knew she could change his mind if he would just look at her.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said, slightly amused by her transparency. "You think I will give in once I'm lost in those big blue eyes of yours, but it won't work, Maria." She held her breath and waited as he stared straight ahead. Sure enough he glanced down at her beaming face. He rolled his eyes. "Because it's pretentious. There, there's your reason."

"It's an honor," Maria shot back. "It is anything _but_ pretentious."

"I don't like it," he said seriously. "Please just promise me that you won't do it."

Maria sighed and smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist. For all his protest and bluster, she knew his heart was bursting with just as much pride and joy as hers. There was still plenty of time to let him get used to the idea of it. She felt his arms pull her closer, a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Georg." She said his name so lovingly, like a song, and for a moment he let himself wonder if he shouldn't just give in. Then she giggled and his sense of reason returned.

"Promise me," he murmured again.

"All right. I promise," she sighed happily, but somehow he knew this wasn't over.

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

A few weeks later, the matter seemed to be forgotten. That is, until dear Uncle Max came for a visit. The children surprised the adults with a small concert after dinner, eager to show off their musical accomplishments since the last time their guest had stayed at the villa. Georg was so enraptured by his talented brood that Max's suggestion caught him completely off guard. Instantly he glared at his wife.

"What a charming idea," he said sarcastically, trying to maintain his calm patience. "Max, you of all people should know by now how I feel about this." Max rolled his eyes.

"You act as though it's never been done before," the impresario commented. "It happens all the time."

Georg shook his head as he looked around at the others. Maria sat biting her lip nervously, and he thought she had a lot of nerve to act like she hadn't put Max up to the whole thing. The children were fidgety. His shoulders slumped and his eyes closed in frustration. "Yes, children? Do you have something to say?"

"We like the idea, Father," Liesl answered with a vigorous nod. The others murmured their agreement.

"It seems that you are outnumbered by the entire family," Max joked.

"Be that as it may, I am the head of the von Trapp family, am I not? And I say no." He gave Max and Maria a pointed look before turning back to his children. "Look, I know how exciting it all is, truly, but you'll just have to try and forget it because I'm not changing my mind." With those words, Georg turned on his heels and started to leave.

He stopped when he reached where Maria sat silently listening to it all. "Did you forget your promise?"

"Oh, but darling...," Maria implored but her husband cut her off with shake of his head. "No, I haven't forgotten."

Georg gave Max a final glance. The man shrugged.

"Well," Max said, clearing his throat. "You can't blame us for trying."

Later that night, a less exasperated Georg sat at one end of the sofa with his wife's feet in his hands, rubbing them gently as she watched him with heavy eyes. The excitement of Max's arrival and the activities of the evening left her thoroughly exhausted.

"I'm sorry if I sounded overbearing earlier," Georg apologized quietly. "I know you think I'm being unreasonable."

Maria sighed and pulled herself upright, swinging her feet to the floor so she could be closer to him. She ran her hand through his hair, cupped his face and leaned toward him for a kiss that was full of love and forgiveness. He opened his arms and beckoned her to his embrace. After she settled comfortably into his warmth, he tried to explain his objections once and for all.

"I'm not trying to be difficult, you know. I'm being protective. I know what people think when they hear the name 'von Trapp', the expectations they have. Take school, for example. When it is discovered who their father is, my children endure the kind of pressure that make most adults crack."

"I've never heard them complain," Maria reasoned. "They are intelligent and talented in their own right. They rose to the occasion at the party, don't you remember? Everyone was so impressed and rightfully so." She sat up and turned her head to meet his eyes. "Face it, Captain. Your children are remarkable human beings. They come by it honestly."

"And as their mother, you are aren't the least bit biased," he chuckled, teasing the ends of her hair with his fingers. "I would hate if any of my children grew to resent a burden they never asked for."

At last Maria understood. It wasn't about pretension or pride or stubbornly having his own way. He was a father with all the fears and worries that came with the job.

"No child could resent such a wonderful father," Maria said affectionately. She took his hand in hers and clutched it tightly over her heart.

"All the same," he replied thoughtfully. "I would just as soon not risk it."

She renewed her promise with a kiss.

M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G&amp;M&amp;G

Frau Schmidt burst into the sitting room, breathless and smiling. The children instantly stopped what they were doing and started talking all at once. Georg was just as eager with a thousand questions but struggled to form a single one.

"She's asking for you, Captain," the housekeeper gushed. "And oh, wait until you see..."

He didn't hear her finish the sentence; in a matter of seconds, Georg was up the stairs and entering his bedroom. The sight that met him made his heart skip. Maria sat tucked gently in their bed, propped up by extra pillows. A single table lamp lit his way to her side. She looked up as the bed shifted under his weight.

"You are so beautiful, Maria," he managed to choke the words out despite all the emotions bubbling up inside of him. "How do you feel?"

"I feel wonderful," she whispered quietly, shifting the small bundle in her arms toward him. "Maybe a little tired, but... look, Georg. Isn't he handsome?"

"He? We have a son?" He leaned closer and gazed upon the most beautiful baby slumbering soundly in her arms. "Maria... he's perfect."

"Go on," she urged, passing the baby to him. "Hold your son. I want to see him in your arms." Georg eagerly took the infant. He slid further onto the bed and settled against the pillows at her side.

"Your sisters and brothers are dying to meet you," he cooed at the sleeping babe nestled between them. "It's about to get noisy and crazy and you better get used to it, er..." He turned and looked his wife. "I haven't even asked his name!"

"Johannes. Johannes von Trapp," she said proudly. Georg froze.

"M-Maria? You promised you wouldn't name the baby after me!"

"No, I promised I wouldn't name him Georg," she smiled. "I did not promise, however, anything about giving him your middle name. And I think it suits him very well."

He shook his head, but couldn't help the smile that spread wide across his face. He couldn't muster any anger. Not after all was said and done.

"It's perfect," he said, placing a gentle kiss on his son's head, then on Maria's lips.

**Next: Q is for Quiet**


	17. Chapter 17: Q is for Quiet

_A/N: I'm sorry it has been ages since I've added to this story. It's partly because this time of year is so busy for me and my family and I've been putting my HatOff hat on (ha, that joke will never get old for me) for NWIWY. This particular prompt had me stumped for a long time. But then a conversation with my husband gave me inspiration and I just went with it. I'm not apologizing (not really) but I do acknowledge that it will make little to no sense to many readers, maybe even most. Our couple is living in Vermont for this little vignette. It's 1946. _

**Q is for Quiet: one character tries to calm the other character down.**

Georg sat in his overstuffed chair hiding behind his morning paper, his foul mood hanging over his head like a storm cloud.

Maria discovered early in her eighteen year marriage to Georg was that he had a somewhat mercurial temperament. It wasn't often, to be sure, but she learned to navigate these tetchy swings with patience and sympathy. He did have a passionate soul, after all, he invested every feeling deeply. And for better or for worse, she loved him no matter how he expressed it {though she had to admit she did have her preferences}.

She learned that he calmed faster if she gave him a little time and space. During the war he would actually talk back to the news reader on the radio, almost always in German which she imagined sounded frightening should any of their neighbors happen to hear it {and he was sure loud enough for that to be possible}. Letters from Austria made him brood and the letters that went unanswered made him even more grim. On those days, Maria waited for the day to wind to it's quiet end to finally search him out, perch gently on his lap and stroke his forehead and press soft kisses on his temples as she simply listened. Gradually his anger at the world and those seeking to ruin it would be forgotten, his mind {and body} very occupied instead with his young wife.

As the years rolled on, the old stress was caused by new problems and Maria had to revamp her methods. One particular evening when Liesl failed to return home on time, there wasn't enough space on their farm and waiting for him to stop pacing wasn't going to allow for her usual approach. Instead she drew him a bath and sat with him, listening as he explained the real source of his upset; he had seen the way Liesl looked at her boyfriend that evening. It was the same way she had always looked at him since she was a little girl, as if he were her shining knight, her hero. He worried that he had lost a daughter. Maria told him that a father never really loses a daughter and that the young man looked at Liesl the way he looked at her, with utter love and adoration. Then she added more hot water to the bath and bought Liesl fifteen more minutes.

When Gretl started dating, she had to resort to joining him in the bath.

If farm equipment broke down, she met him in the barn with something for him to eat. She'd let him slam tools around while he ate, moving closer and closer to his side until _he_ finally suggested they climb into the loft so he could properly thank her for the food. When Friedrich backed the car into the large oak at the end of their driveway, she nodded at every rant until she was close enough to place a gentle hand on his cheek and kiss him. And she kept kissing him until it was safe enough to point out that the tree suffered more damage than the car.

Georg wasn't necessarily predictable or easily manipulated, but he was the head of a large family in a constant state of flux. Maria understood this. And the truth was it gave her great pleasure to offer whatever comfort he needed. But this... this was just stupid.

Suddenly, the newspaper came down and Georg barked a word that literally made her flinch.

"Georg," she scolded lightly, shaking her head. "I should make you kiss the floor."

"They're rotten! Rotten! Lousy, no good..."

"Ball players, dear. I think the word you're looking for is ball players."

She secretly cursed their neighbor Ernie for introducing her husband to baseball. It seemed harmless enough, a kids' game after all and it gave them something to talk about {more pleasant than the usual ongoing Farmall versus John Deere debate}. But then it became an obsession, endless hours spent by the radio, pleased if they won {as if he had something to do with it!} and muttering under his breath when they lost. It was the most American thing Georg had embraced since starting their new life in their new country and it ruled their summer days.

The only thing she knew about it was that the team was from Boston. And according to Ernie's wife Norma, there was no cure.

"Losers. They're losers," he shouted. Maria blinked uncomprehendingly. "They lost the World Series, it's over. They're losers."

"Ah. I see." She paused and then proceeded. "But baseball is a game. Right? Maybe they'll win the next one."

"Maria, there is no next game. This was it. They had a chance to win and they blew it! Pesky held the ball and the Cardinals scored. That's it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm right, though. It's just a game. Kids play it outside the school, I've seen it."

"But the point is-"

"The point is that you're upset over grown men losing a game."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Georg. I've got more important things than to sit and watch you lose your mind over nothing." She started to leave when he tried again.

"The war is over." Maria turned slowly, confusion across her face. Now he was really making no sense. He reached for her hand and pulled her to his lap. Instinctively she began to caress his brow. "This was... important, Maria. The boys are home from a terrible war and this was about life being back to normal. So many of those men, players like Ted Williams fought with the-"

"Ted Williams?"

"Only the greatest baseball player of all time! He was a navy man, you know..."

"Ah, I see."

"Yes," he hummed quietly, resting his head on her shoulder. Slowly Maria felt a hand on her knee as he turned his face to nuzzle her throat. Maria sat up straight.

"Oh no," she exclaimed, leaping off his lap. "This is not a broken tiller or a daughter getting married. This is grown men wearing pajamas hitting a ball with a stick. Norma warned me this would happen! She told me the Red-whatevers-"

"Sox. Red Sox."

"Yes, fine. She told me they would break your heart and you'd cry like a baby."

Georg whined as she started to leave again. "But dear, I am upset and you're _so good_ at making me feel better!"

Maria spun on her heels. "Well, then I'll just tell you what wives are telling their husbands all over New England today, Captain. 'There's always next year.'*"

_* very common mantra for Red Sox fans. And probably Chicago Cubs fans, I would imagine._

_A/N: The Red Sox were in the 1946 World Series but lost in game seven. Whether or not Georg would care is simply made up, but chances are he would follow the Red Sox if he did. I dedicate this ridiculous story to my favorite Sox fan, my husband who might have "There's always next year" written on his tombstone. _

**Next: R is for Remember**


	18. Chapter 18: R is for Remember

**R is for Remember: one character tries to get the other to remember them years later**

Maria knocked on the Captain's study door and waited for his invitation to enter. She leaned closer to listen, sure she could hear him in the room, but he said nothing. She knocked louder, finally hearing the familiar voice call to her. She opened the door to find her fiance distracted and sifting through one of the drawers in his big desk.

"Hello, darling. Are you looking for something?" Maria moved closer to him, instantly lifting the contents of his desk in some unconscious need to help.

"Yes," he said absently. "I know it's somewhere around here."

"What, exactly?"

"I have an old diary with names and addresses of some of my navy comrades. I want to add them to the wedding list. Unfortunately, it's been so long and it could be anywhere." He yanked open the largest drawer on the bottom and froze. "Oh, dear." He looked up at Maria and gave her a sheepish smile.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"Now before I show you and drag up all sorts of unpleasantness, please remember that all's well that ends well."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I like the sound of that. What did you find?" Maria stretched across the desk to see what he was hiding. Slowly he held up a pair of binoculars and gave them a shake. Maria rocked back and landed on her feet. "Are those...? You told me they were in the boat house. You _insisted_ they were in the boat house. You made me _trek all the way down_ to that blasted boat house where we got trapped for _hours_-"

"Oh-ho, more like minutes, my dear," Georg laughed, handing them to her so he could resume his search. "The children found us just in time."

"Just in time for _what_? That's what I'd like to know. The Baroness wondered the same thing, if I recall," Maria rolled her eyes as she fiddled with the lens covers. "I can't believe you had them in your desk the entire time. I feel tricked."

"I took them with us the last time the boys and I went rowing. I honestly thought that's where they were. Friedrich will be happy I found them." Georg reached deep into the back of the drawer and pulled out a small leather bound book. "Ha! I found it. Double success! I wonder what else is in here..." He continued to look through some papers and old letters.

"What did Friedrich want them for, anyway?" Maria set them down and settled into a chair in front of his desk.

"Oh, um... well," Georg smiled as he hesitated with his answer. "I'm not entirely sure but I think he wanted to spy on someone."

"What?!"

"That family that moved in next door a couple months ago has a daughter," he explained with a chuckle. "I've noticed that she is outside every afternoon playing with their dog."

"_You_ noticed?" Maria asked warily.

"Well, no. I should say I've noticed that Friedrich has noticed," he laughed again. "It's probably just as well that we didn't find them, I think."

"I should say so! Where would that boy get such an idea? Spying..." Maria watched him try to control the grin that was growing wider across his face. He had stopped looking into her eyes, sucking air through his pursed lips like the guiltiest man on earth. She flinched when he suspiciously glanced at the large window nearby.

Suddenly they both grabbed for the binoculars, but Maria was a second faster. She smiled at him triumphantly as she crossed to the window and looked out. She removed the lens covers, lifted the binoculars to her face and scanned the entire grounds. She could see the part of the lake where she and the children liked to swim. She could see the large shade tree where she liked to sit and rest while the children ran around and played. More importantly, she could see it all so much better with the binoculars. She turned and glared at Georg.

"You spied on me!"

"Now, now," he said, raising his hand in defense. "I think I had a right to keep an eye on you, Fraulein. Letting my children dangle from trees and making them topple out of boats... I was simply being a concerned father." Maria hummed at that, walking away from the window and returning to her chair.

"Like father, like son," she mumbled sarcastically, but then her eyes twinkled and the corners of her mouth twitched. "I don't approve of spying, but I must say that I feel a bit..."

"Stimulated?" Georg teased .

"Flattered," Maria corrected with a pointed look.

"So, does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Of course," she assured him, then she laughed again. "I mean, it isn't like you usually go around stalking nuns!"

Georg laughed with her, only when she stopped he kept on laughing. He clasped his hands together and shrugged his shoulders as a grin spread from ear to ear. The bewildered expression on Maria's face made him throw his head back and laugh even louder.

"Did I say something funny?" Maria demandeed, wondering if he was simply teasing her again. She felt her cheeks start to burn.

"I think it's funny," he said as he stood up and moved around his desk and reached for her hand. He silently gestured for her to join him on the small settee. "I hope you'll think it's funny. I mean, you might think it's creepy." Maria didn't know what to make of him. He was babbling like a nervous child. She didn't think her steadfast Captain was capable of doing such a thing. He took a deep breath and began.

"Before you came to us, things were very unpleasant around here. You remember how the children were, how they hated the idea of a governess, playing nasty pranks and driving them all away." He paused at the memory of it all, nodding when Maria clucked her tongue at the understatement.

"Ha! You seem to forget that I was a target, too."

"Yes, well, I was fed up so I ran away." At that, Maria quirked an eyebrow at him. He quickly continued. "Just for the day, just... just for some peace and quiet. I needed to plan my next move. We went through eleven different governesses. They all had references, they all seemed confident in the task, but the children were so determined." He waved his words away, knowing he didn't have to explain why they had been like that. After all, she was the one who had made _him_ see what was really going on. To his surprise, Maria giggled.

"I used to do the same thing," she said with understanding. "As much as I loved the Abbey, I could only be cooped up inside those walls for so long before I needed to get away."

Georg smiled at what she confessed, at what he knew and she didn't. Yet. "I can believe that," he said, leaning over and taking her hand in his. He stroked the back of her fingers with his thumb. "It was a beautiful day. I thought I would visit a gallery or something but I found myself heading toward the Untersberg."

"You did?! But Georg, that's..." He squeezed her hand to cut her off and pushed on with this story.

"I was standing at the ticket seller, debating whether I wanted to bother with the crowds when suddenly this voice rose above the bustling crowd, greeting everyone. This woman, she acted like it was her train, her mountain." He paused to look at her. She was sitting still and breathless, the color in her cheeks becoming deeper. "I was mesmerized. I bought a ticket and got on the train which was nearly bursting at the seams with school children. She had them all charmed by the time we were halfway. There I was, trying to figure out what to do with seven children and she had a carload of them utterly spellbound!

"When we got off the train, everyone followed the path that was marked but this woman, well, I think she is the type who likes to do things her own way because she went in the opposite direction. I couldn't help myself, I needed to see what she was up to and so I followed her."

"Y-you did?" The words came out as a whisper, making Georg smile.

"I did. I was clever about it, staying behind just far enough so she wouldn't see me, but close enough that I could see and hear everything. Do you know what she did?" Maria shook her head slowly. "She started to sing. The most beautiful singing I had ever heard."

"But you... y-you didn't say anything to her." Georg could see that Maria was struggling to believe what she was hearing, what it meant. Her heart seemed to be pounding in her chest, and her breathing became harder. He watched her tremble with each new bit of information. He closed his other hand around the one he held and instantly she calmed.

"No, I didn't want to break the spell. And I didn't think it was a good idea because, well," he paused. "She was a nun. I don't know, she seemed to be communing with God up there. Who was I to interrupt?" He held her hand tighter, and looked at her tenderly. "I'll never forget the song you sang up there on your mountain. It's the song you taught my children, Maria. But first you taught it to me."

"My mountain," she sighed happily, shaking her head in disbelief. After pensive moment, Maria let out a short gasp, and then a surprised laugh. "My mountain! When we were in the boat house, you told me to close my eyes and think about my mountain! That's how you could describe it as if you had been there. Because you had! And this means that the day I came here, that wasn't the first time we met!"

"I suppose you could look it that way, yes. It was an incredible day. My heart felt peaceful, the most peace I had felt in a long time. It gave me this crazy idea that maybe I should contact the Abbey and ask if they could send someone to take care of my children. The rest, well... you know the rest." Georg sat back, pulling Maria closer. She leaned against his side but continued to stare at him.

"Why didn't you say anything when I first arrived?" Maria asked.

Georg twisted his mouth as he contemplated his answer. "At first I was shocked that it was you. Then that first day was such a disaster I think I convinced myself that you couldn't possibly be the same nun."

"When did you know it _was_ me after all?" She looked at him with such anticipation, as if she listening to a fairy tale and waiting for the happy-ever-after.

"When I came back from Vienna and saw that you had charmed my children like you had the ones on the train. And the first time I heard you singing with them. And when my heart started to feel the same peace as it did that day on your mountain. I knew then that it was you, Maria. And it will always be you who makes me feel that way." Georg leaned toward her, his eyes asking permission to kiss her. She smiled as she placed her lips to his.

_A/N: Ok, I didn't really do the prompt as it is stated. But this story does qualify for the August prompt which was to revisit the universe from one of my old stories. This vignette does that TWICE! Bonus points if you can figure out which ones I used (not difficult, really)._

_Thanks for still reading. Please leave a review._

**Next: S is for Silence**


	19. Chapter 19: S is for Silence

_So, I'll give you a minute to pick yourself up off the floor from fainting. Though it's only been about eight months since I last updated here, so I don't know what you're going on about... sheesh. _

_There will be an update for FSN soon... all kinds of writing has been happening. _

_Disclaimer: same as all A-R, natch. And as always, playing playing footloose with the prompt cuz I can... please RnR._

**S is for Silence: a story where neither character speaks**

I.

He figured it wouldn't be long before she joined them, as he knew she was eager to see the children. In fact, he half expected her to come running out of the house and throw her arms around them with youthful abandonment as soon as she heard the noise and chaos that had just come roaring up the driveway and pouring out of the car. After all, he'd seen it before when she came back from the Abbey, flying across the lawn and dropping her belongings so she could match Louisa with an enthusiastic embrace that nearly sent them both toppling to the ground.

That is what he expected. But that's not what he got.

She walked through the doors calmly and gracefully, a warm smile spreading across her face as she greeted the children. She opened her arms to them as they instantly moved away from him to be by her side. She gazed upon each child with total adoration... and something else. Trepidation.

He was tempted to take some credit for this transformation, and maybe to some degree he could. But as she had told him over and over, she was now who she was always meant to be. Her skin felt like her own. She glowed, his bride. His wife. Their mother...

No sooner than he thought it, Brigitta said it. There was a short, nearly imperceptible intake of breath before she looked at him. The smile shifted and that little something else became complete joy.

_Did you hear that?_

He winked at her and the smile spread to her bright blue eyes.

_Of course I heard! I told you there was no need to worry!_

II.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

When he explained it to her, he stressed how careful they would have to be. He said they would try to time their arrival at the station with the departure of the train to lessen the chance anyone would notice a family of nine traveling at night. He warned that they might have to split up and get on different cars so not to draw attention to themselves.

But none of those plans mattered, she thought, since they didn't even get off the villa grounds before getting caught.

She would hardly consider herself a brave person, not when her instinct was to run away from fears and problems. But her husband, he had years of experience in courage. She drew on that courage to keep her feet planted, her shoulders back and her face straight as he made jokes with the man that could arrest him right then and there.

She knew he wasn't being reckless. He was stalling for time, formulating a plan. He needed them to remain calm and she would do her part and play along.

As they ushered the children into the car, she glanced across the roof of the vehicle in time to see him cross his fingers and give her rather amused and mischievous nod.

_Zeller's an idiot. I've got a plan. We're going to be ok._

She smiled back.

_I know we are. _

_And I'm sure you do. _

_And he really is._

III.

He didn't want to do it but Max thought it might help them pull off the ruse; one last song so Zeller would think he really meant to go with him to Bremerhaven. One last parting song to give the men keeping guard backstage a false sense of cooperation.

But then the word _homeland_ passed his lips and it all became something else, became what it really was; a farewell to everything he believed in, everything he fought for. The finality of it felt like a vise around his chest. He had given his dreams to Austria and served her with his whole life until it had all been taken away. Now it was destroyed. Austria was no more.

The heartbreak was choking him and he couldn't make the words leave his throat.

A warm hand threaded with his and instantly he felt steady. She had bravely said goodbye to her dream because she loved him, because she believed in a life together with him. His home would be wherever she was.

He gave her hand another squeeze and their eyes met briefly.

_I'm all right now that you're by my side._

_It's where I belong._

IV.

She pulled Gretl closer into her embrace, trying to both shield and comfort her. The others crouched as still and quiet as the gravestones they hid behind. She thought the granite figures that practically glowed in the moonlight would serve more as beacons for their pursuers than as a safe hiding place for them, but it was too late to worry about it now. She pulled Gretl closer into the shadows.

It was unsettling for her to think that those men would breach the abbey gates. Nonnberg was the safest place she had ever known until she found her true refuge in the man they were hunting. She came to see her time at the Abbey as a step in her journey to find the life she was meant to live, and now it was part of their journey out of Austria, to a life unknown. The same Hand that guided her then would direct them safely where they needed to go.

It filled her with tremendous peace. Even as the shouts and footsteps grew louder and closer.

She looked up and caught her husband's concerned eye.

_Only a little bit longer..._

_Yes, this will be over soon._

_I'm sorry. _

_Don't be._

_I love you, Maria._

_I love you, too._

**Next: T is for Travel**

_AN2: I was going to title this 'A Married People Thing' because technically they don't speak, except that they do communicate. I hope you get that. I'm not sure it's clear so I felt the need to explain... _


End file.
